Godless
by ThexOnexWhoxWanders
Summary: To Thor and Loki, Zora is an ancient Asgardian legend come to life. To Zora, Fate just decided to toss her a curveball and send her on the adventure of a lifetime. But why, WHY, did that adventure have to always include the fallen Asgardian prince? Loki/OC ,Thor-OC friendship.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** **: Hello, hello, bonjour and hola, moi druzia. Another story here. I have several in the works right now, since inspiration hits me at odd intervals, and also likely because I am procrastinating during my last year of university. This is just a brief prologue. Normal chapters will be much, much longer than this. Hoping to get the first chapter up very soon.**

 **Just to give you a heads-up: while this story does take place in an AU where Loki managed to take over parts of Midgard, that is not the main setting in which our story will take place. The following chapters will show as much. And I'd like to reiterate: this is highly AU. Doesn't really follow the Thor: Ragnarok plot much either.**

 **Disclaimer** **: I, sadly, do not own the Avengers.**

 **Warnings** **: Rated T for language. Rating may change depending on if adult content is included in subsequent chapters.**

* * *

 **Prologue**

They'd heard the stories a hundred times throughout their childhood: tales of a woman from another realm saving Asgard from its end, its destruction at the hands of the Hela and her minions. A children's story of sorts, told from the smiling lips of the queen back when he and Thor had crammed into one of their beds for their nightly tale, eyes wide with wonder at the legend, both young boys concocting some imagined version of the woman who would save them.

Thor always pictured her to be strong, muscled, blonde-haired and blue eyed – his near match in all but gender. She would be the princess of some far-off land, some realm they had never before visited, come to save Asgard and make Thor her king. King of the realms with the War-Breaker at his side.

Loki had always tried hard not to laugh at his brother's made-up fairytale. From his point of view, Loki was the more pragmatic and realistic of the two. He simply _understood_ , where Thor merely saw. This woman, the War-Breaker, would not be some princess with fancy coils in her hair, strong as a bull and just as stubborn. She'd be smart. Talented. A strategical-thinker who didn't run blindly into battle for the sake of the kill. She'd be clever and calm and confident, but not egotistical, not rash. The lady of his dreams also understood, where others only saw.

Neither boy was right, of course – their imaginings of this mysterious woman developing, breaking, restarting over the years. Thor had grown wary of her – for _he_ was Asgard's hero, was he not? Loki only grew more obsessed. In his adult years, he would come to recognize the woman as what she was – a fable, a tall tale, a creature that could only ever exist inside the recesses of his mind. But there was still that boyish wonder within him, some sort of misplaced hope. Perhaps, he always told himself, he was wrong. Asgard's prophets had foretold many things that had come to pass in their time. This could be one, too.

* * *

 **Part One**

 _The Things Which Fate Binds You To_

Zora Haque knew she'd been caught in the clutches of Fate. She'd known it from the moment Director Fury pulled her out of deep cover and thrusted her into the raging inferno that was the Avengers. Hell, she'd probably known it before that – there were always little signs, weren't there? – but she never dared dwell on the thought. Fate wanted something from her, but she didn't know what it was. Didn't _want_ to know.

For all she cared, Fate could go fuck itself.

She had fought alongside Earth's Mightiest Heroes during the Battle of New York, albeit with more hesitance than Fury had liked. It felt off. Wrong. But it was the path she was led to, in more ways than one. The aggravating signs? A.) Previously knowing Jane Foster, aka the super-genius girlfriend of the God of Thunder, which was just beyond crazy dumb luck, since they had randomly met one another in a Dark Sky park some six years prior. B.) Having partnered with Stark a year earlier on a secret Defense project that ended up going south. Literally. It got moved off to some empty location in the southern US, and Zora was posted overseas. And then the shining, gleaming letter C.) Having nearly been killed by Natasha Romanoff. _Twice_.

Zora wasn't much of a believer in God – any God, for that matter, unless he had a hammer that could literally rain lightning – but she understood that the universe worked in its own way. Maybe she'd listened to her mom too much as a kid – _Honestly, Zora, you need to listen to your gut more. Trust that. It's_ connected _to things, things you don't understand yet –_ but Zora considered herself practical and realistic. And the reality was that she had been placed here for a reason, right?

The reason just happened to be very different than what anyone could have imagined. A reason Zora couldn't run from for much longer, much as she tried.

Moreover, Zora had a job to do. But since New York had fallen, and since she and the rest of the Avengers had gone into hiding… well, that job got really fucking hard.

"Stop pacing," Hawkeye complained, shooting Zora a glare. "You're giving me a headache and I just got rid of the last one."

Zora stopped mid-step and raked fingers through her hair. "She should be back. It was just a quick run – grab the supplies and return. She should be _back_ by now."

Clint just shrugged, like he didn't have a care in the whole goddamn universe. Like the world wasn't currently being systematically conquered by Thor's younger, crazier brother. "She will be. Nat can handle herself, Z. You know that."

"Zora knows that more than anyone," Tony piped up, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Don't you have the scars to prove it?"

Zora flipped him off. "You'll have some scars of your own if you don't fuck off, Stark."

Tony placed a hand over his heart, dramatic as ever. "Ouch, the woman has bite."

"You wish I would bite you," came her quick reply. Tony laughed, clutching at his stomach, before wiggling his brows at her and getting back to work. He and Bruce were building a radio, of all things – but not just any radio. One that could reach world-wide stations. Keep them up to date on what was being conquered, what was fighting back.

"I got something on surveillance," Clint suddenly said, eyes narrowing on the screen he sat in front of. Then he smirked up at Zora. "It's Nat. Only ten minutes late. Not bad."

Zora bit the inside of her cheek. Ten minutes was _ten minutes_. All that time mattered – Nat knew that. She wasn't worrying without proper cause. Something had felt off to Zora for the past couple days. _Significantly_ off.

The redhead in question lifted the hatch of the safehouse just a moment later, climbing down the rattily staircase with loaded-down arms. Zora darted forward to grab some plastic bags from the assassin. Her efforts were met with an appreciative smile.

"Things go okay?" Zora asked, eyes perusing the redhead for any sign of trouble.

Natasha shrugged. She and Zora crossed the room to unload all the bags into the cupboards. "Just fine." She shot a glare at Clint over her shoulder. "Just took me forever to find those fucking onion-flavored chips you wanted. By the way, gross."

A corner of Clint's mouth lifted. "Hey, you like caviar – you can't give me shit for this. Caviar is literally _baby fish_."

Nat rolled her eyes. She noted Zora's tense movements coolly. "Everything okay here?"

"Yeah," Zora said, but inside, she was just like the rest of the Avengers – a total wreck. "Things are fine."

"Good."

000

The next day, Tony and Bruce cranked on the radio. Whether or not it was a good thing the contraption worked was a matter of perception. Strategically, it put them on better footing, but morally…

"France has followed Great Britain and Spain into surrender," a dejected newscaster reported. "Putting the tally at twenty countries that have surrendered to – "a pause, thick and suffocating, "his majesty, King Loki's rule."

Zora pinched her eyes shut, her heart aching. After New York fell – and then several other cities across the U.S., including D.C. - negotiations for surrender began. It hadn't taken very long. Thousands had died at the hands of the Chitauri, a ruthless alien species hellbent on getting blood, and it was feared that thousands more would follow. Surrender had been inevitable.

All because they had failed.

The collapse of the United States stole the hope from other countries across the world, watching the battles with baited breath, praying to whatever gods might be out there – aside from this self-proclaimed ruler, this maniac, this tyrant – that the fight would shift in their favor. In humanity's favor. Regional politics hadn't necessarily been forgotten, but it was widely acknowledged that regional issues fell flat against the rise of this new, very immediate threat to the world. Civil wars in Syria, throughout the continent of Africa, all placed themselves on hold. Everyone braced for what would come next. Which country would follow in surrender, or like Germany, would be almost entirely decimated.

"Relief efforts underway in Berlin have managed to pull some 2,000 people from the rubble," the newscaster continued. "An official number of survivors has not yet been released, but it is estimated that some 10,000 may have perished. Further information to come."

The sad thing was that in most countries that had already agreed to surrender, life went back to normal as much as it could. Hollywood was still filming. Schools kept teaching, universities reopened. Stores were stocked as they usually were, sans German products. If you didn't live in a city that had been at war with the Chitauri, if you were just on the peripherals of what was going on, it would seem like nothing had changed at all.

That was the worst part. Half the country wanted to take up arms again, to reform the military which had been dismantled and revolt – but the other half? Their day to day lives had hardly been affected. They didn't _understand_ – the losses seemed so far away from them, so unreal. Zora knew that would be the problem, in the end. The divide.

And she and the rest of the Avengers – save Thor – were stuck underground in this safehouse Tony had built some ten years prior, decked out with bedrooms of their own, a kitchen, a dining room… But no sunlight. No freedom. Just waiting – all that anxious waiting – and guilt. They needed to reorganize and fight back, but it had been agreed that they truly needed to regroup before that happened. When they fought back, it needed to _work_. And most importantly: they needed to find out what had happened to Thor.

Tony wouldn't say it to the others, but Zora knew he believed Thor was dead. Could see that haunted look in his dark eyes every time the thunder god was brought up. She didn't – Thor was a _god_ , for Christ's sake. He wasn't that easy to kill, even if Loki had him. It just… it couldn't work that way. It couldn't.

"Furthermore, word on the Avengers has been silent," the newscaster continued, forcing everyone's eyes in the spacious safehouse to meet, pain and regret painted across many faces. "His majesty the King has offered a significant bounty for anyone who may have information on their whereabouts. Three weeks have passed and there hasn't been a single sighting that we know of…"

Zora tuned him out. Her chest felt tight, her throat constricted. She couldn't listen to this anymore – to the dejected, despondent tones of a newscaster forced to read whatever Loki told him to. Shoving to her feet, Zora ignored the worried glances shot her way and walked quietly to her room. The door shut almost silently behind her, and she breathed a sigh – of relief? Of despair? – as it did.

Things weren't right. And they were about to get worse. She knew it, somehow, in her gut. _It's_ connected _to things_ , her mother would say, reminding her at every chance. _Things you don't understand yet_. That was the problem. Zora didn't want to understand. She didn't want to know what strings she'd gotten tangled in.

000

"I grow tired of asking you the same questions, Thor," Loki said, his voice smooth and lilting, charming as it had ever been. But he was bored, painfully bored. A month had come and gone, and still his not-brother refused to give up the information he so desired. Information he would have no matter what. No one could stand in his way. Not even if he wanted them to.

Thor didn't _understand,_ he only _saw_. Just as he always had. He saw the helmet on Loki's head to be a crown. It was not. He saw the scepter in Loki's hand to be his hold on power. Wrong still.

Thor didn't understand that this wasn't what Loki wanted. None of it. But he was forbidden from speaking the words, so it mattered not. Thor could not know without seeing _and_ understanding, and a feat such as that… well, that would, quite honestly, have to be a miracle.

Loki did not believe in miracles.

"You think I'll betray them to you, brother," Thor said, voice hoarse and scratchy. "I will not. I've told you time and again. You think I lie?"

"I think you're stubborn," Loki said lightly, a huff on his lips. "And besides, I don't need all of them. I've already told you. Just the one."

The chains holding Thor up rattled as he canted his head to look at his brother. There was no hatred there – no, there never was. There was desperation. There was fear. Sometimes, sadness. But never hatred.

That bit at Loki the most. The Chitauri general, Saadu, suggested time and again that they torture the first prince of Asgard, and he was reminded of this now. Would those eyes turn hateful if he resorted to torture? Would they look different if Thor knew what lengths Loki had to go to, just to keep that from happening?

Thor was not his brother. Not anymore. But that didn't mean Loki would stand by and watch him be stripped of his skin. Frigga… she would never forgive him.

"What do you want with her?" Thor finally asked, his eyes narrowed, the blue of his irises dimmed in this makeshift dungeon. "She's done nothing to earn your scorn."

"You're not wrong," Loki allowed, dancing around the truth like the liesmith he was. The truth – that was also forbidden. The mad titan was nothing if not competent, prepared. Thorough. "But I want her all the same. Tell me."

"No."

"Then I'll be back tomorrow to ask you again."

He turned heel and made to walk away. But instead of taking the contraption Midgardian's called the 'elevator', as he usually did – such an interesting thing, a never-ending curiosity – Loki called on his magic to transport him elsewhere.

That was when he felt it. The vibration. The shift. The singing little object wrapped around Thor's neck that called out to Loki, an opera all for himself, like every single fiber that composed it longed for Loki's touch.

Loki's shoulders, tense, turned squarely about to face his not-brother once more. There it was again – the fear in Thor's eyes.

"The bobble around your neck," Loki asked quietly, impatiently. Why hadn't he thought of it before? Why hadn't he summoned his magic to root out what he wanted? Or perhaps a better question… How did this woman leave behind a magical fingerprint? "What is it?"

"Tis nothing," Thor said weakly, but he was a bad liar. He was lying to the _God_ of Lies – Loki couldn't be fooled. "Just a trinket."

"Who's trinket?"

Thor swallowed thickly. He knew his brother had found him out, had found the one object he had on him that would lead straight to the woman Loki wanted.

The raven-haired prince stepped forward, agile and graceful as ever, bending down to observe the necklace. The trinket was a tiny little hammer – a smaller version of mjiournir, carved from wood – hanging on a simple silver chain.

Loki tore it from Thor's neck, holding it up to eye level, hearing it sing higher and higher. This was what he needed.

"She'll fight you," Thor said, the defeat weighing heavy in his tone. "She's not what you think. She'll fight back and you won't be able to best her."

Loki fixed his not-brother with an open look for the first time in months, unguarded, unmanipulated. He could read the confusion on the blonde's face, his own visage earnestly relieved. "Good. She'll need to."

000

"Nat went last week," Zora said, keeping the desperation from her tone. This place was dark – she'd seen no sunlight for a month now, and she needed _out_. "Just let me go. I can be there and back in under an hour."

Tony shifted on the balls of his feet, his eyes narrowed on their newest recruit. "You even know your way around this town?"

Zora scoffed. "We passed one stoplight on the way here. _One_. It can't be that hard. Besides, no matter what disguise she wears, Nat's got a pretty memorable face. Me? No one knows me."

Tony finally shrugged. "It's not up to me. Why does everyone always think it's up to me? Talk to Cap about it. I just own this billion-dollar hideout. He runs it."

Steve, who was perched on a couch not far from the bickering pair, cocked his head up at that. "For the last time, I don't run this place, Tony." The man sounded tired, as if this were an argument they had more than once.

Tony crossed his arms at the war relic. "Uh, really? Then why were you barking orders at me the other day? Honestly, Rogers, you treat me like a slave."

Steve just rolled his eyes, but he didn't seem too irritated. Honestly, though he was usually pretty annoying, Tony was the one keeping everyone… normal.

Cap's blue eyes found Zora, and he merely nodded. "Back in under an hour," he told her. "Or one of us comes looking."

"Deal." She slung her backpack over her shoulder and approached the staircase leading to the hatch.

" _Dorogaya_ ," Natasha said, giving the newest Avenger a strange look. Zora stopped, cocked her head in waiting. " _Be safe_ ," the assassin warned in Russian. " _Understand?"_

" _Da_ ," Zora replied, giving the female assassin a false salute. " _I will_."

000

Zora wasn't in the habit of making promises she couldn't keep. One hour tops, that was all she had. But if she were being honest with herself… she was dragging her feet. The sunlight on her face felt _so good_. So normal, amidst this fucked-up situation. She strolled to the grocery store, backpack tight on her shoulders, smile curling on her lips. Fresh air. God, it was so underrated.

When she got to the store, Zora reveled in all the unfamiliar faces. They paid her no mind – she had on a baseball cap and a rather unflattering hoodie, so she wasn't surprised. Zora worked through the grocery list, picking up shaving cream for Nat, chips for Clint, batteries for Tony, and some nasty looking sardines for Bruce, who had admitted he had a craving for them.

It was all so pedestrian, so underwhelming, so _normal_. So of course, this was when the universe decided to throw her off balance, toss a curve ball her way, tilt the schematics of her life.

Zora turned down the aisle for makeup – figuring she'd pick something pretty up for Nat just for the hell of it – when she froze upon seeing the figure at the other end.

He stood facing her, hands at his sides – one gripping a glowing, ancient scepter – his shoulders unnervingly straight. His typical Asgardian armor hugged his body like a second skin, his raven hair slicked back away from his face. His eyes pinning her to the spot.

Loki.

Zora had never actually spoken to the god, had never fought him during the Battle of New York, but aside from the obvious – the strange dress, the terrified looks other customers were giving him, and the goddamn scepter – Zora would never forget those eyes. He looked at her now as he had when he'd plunged a dagger into Thor's belly – dark, focused, _intense_. Unrepentant.

"Oh," Zora said lamely, completely forgetting the cart she was pushing around. Her brain short circuited momentarily – how had he found her? Why was he here, when the others, the big leagues, weren't far away? "Oh, shit."

Maybe she'd fucked something up. Maybe he was able to track her, somehow, and not Nat, who usually went on supply runs. Maybe – and this one fucking hurt – maybe he was going to use her to get to them. No, that was it – he was definitely going to use her to get to them.

Zora turned and bolted, hopping over produce, darting around customers, generally making a very quick exit towards the door. Her heart hammered away in her throat, and she knew she wouldn't make it. She wouldn't. He was a god, and you couldn't outrun a god. You couldn't outrun some things, not when they'd been chasing after you for a lifetime.

Her body collided with his as he appeared in front of her. It was like running face-first into a brick wall. Zora bounced right off of him, nearly landing on her ass, but her quick reflexes adjusted and she merely skittered across the floor. She hadn't known he was so tall. He was taller than Thor, even.

"Lady Haque," he spoke, and she could only imagine that first day, back when the US had surrendered, and he addressed the masses on national television. He sounded different, here. Real. It sent pinpricks up her arms. "No one has to get hurt if you cooperate."

 _Cooperate_. Cooperate. No – she wasn't going to sell them out. Not after everything.

Snatching the pistol that had been holstered beneath her hoodie, Zora held it up. "Cooperation is not my strong suit," she told the demi-god firmly.

He blinked. "Will you shoot me with your Midgardian weapon?" A sharp grin curled on his mouth. "Please, try. I'm afraid it won't even leave a scratch."

Zora smirked at him, obviously taking the god off guard. Then she refocused her weapon towards her head. "Maybe not on you, but it'll leave a bit more than just a scratch on me." She looked him hard in the eyes, her heartbeat throbbing through her entire body at this point - _because this was it, this was the end_ – and said through gritted teeth, "I'm not a sellout."

His hand moved out right as she was going to pull the trigger, and something inside the gun clicked. Just not in the way it was supposed to. Zora glanced at it, pulling at the trigger over and over again – nothing happened – before glaring at the self-proclaimed King.

"Now that _that_ 's over with-"he began, voice every shade of condescending as he stepped forward, ready to approach her.

Zora made to bolt again, darting the other way. It was futile – she _knew_ it was – but she couldn't go down without a fight. And, well, she couldn't necessarily fight him. Her being mortal and all.

She had only taken four steps when some sort of uncomfortable atmosphere descended on her, curling invisible fingers around her body, holding her in place. Zora felt sick; shivers racked her body at the unfamiliar contact, the _inhuman_ contact, but she couldn't move. _Magic_.

The demi-god took long, measured steps towards Zora. The crowd that had gathered around them stared at him in a mixture of horror and wonder as he stepped back into view, a mere foot away from her.

"Cooperate," the god said again, his tone much less patient this time around, "or someone will get hurt. Perhaps someone at that dingy little underground facility you've all been staying in."

Her blood ran cold. An anxious sweat broke out on Zora's forehead. He knew where they were. He knew. "You think I don't know you'll hurt them anyway?" Her tone was dark, hateful. She sneered at him, despite the voice of self-preservation in her head directing her otherwise.

Loki grinned. "I won't. I'll even give you my word. You'll suffice for my purposes."

Another shiver wanted to run down her spine, but the magic curled around her body wouldn't permit it. "Your purposes?"

"Indeed," he went on, as if they were having a conversation, as if he didn't have magical claws digging into her body, holding her immobile as a crowd of terrified onlookers watched. "I only need one of you, and I think you'll do. They won't fight back if they know your life is at stake, will they?"

She should have told Fury 'no'. She shouldn't have accepted his offer – or rather, his very encouraging demand – to become part of all this. She should've run the other way when she had the chance.

Zora had a feeling that Fate had finally caught up with her.

000

The woman strained against his magic – he could sense every flex of her muscles, every millimeter of skin that ached for release as if he were touching her. The other patrons in the drab grocer's store gaped at their trapped hero in horror, either not comprehending that danger was afoot and they should be swiftly on their way, or too enthralled by the strange mortal habit of watching tragedies play out to their end.

Loki felt at least some satisfaction in the successful capture of his target, if not also some curiosity. The Mad Titan had been adamant that the mortal be seized and it could be for no small reason.

He watched the mortal woman ponder over his words – that she would suffice as his only hostage to keep the rest of the Avengers held at bay. She would be the collar on their leash, yanked and pulled how he desired. Everyone on this meddlesome planet seemed to forget one major factor, however – Loki was the God of Lies.

So of course he wasn't telling the truth.

"I want a guarantee," the mortal grit out quickly, her hard green gaze staring him down, "that you won't go after the others."

Loki grinned. It was tiresome, explaining such pedestrian concepts to the mortals, but Loki found some amusement, though it may be bitter, at her expense. "Darling, you are the guarantee. So long as you remain in my custody – and make no attempt to escape – I'll have no use for them."

He watched as she resolved herself, those green eyes shifting from gemstone to marble. "Fuck you," she said, but he could hear the defeat that lay just beneath her veneer of hate. The tingles he had felt of her struggling against his magic ceased. But the shifting gleam in her eye made his lips curl further. "You want me to be a perfect hostage, then I want something in return."

Oh, he _loved_ negotiations. Especially when the other party had nothing to negotiate with whatsoever. Cocking an unimpressed eyebrow, Loki asked, "You mean other than allowing Captain America, Hawkeye, the Hulk, the Black Widow, and Iron Man to live?" His tone may have let on she was asking a bit much.

The woman, to her credit, didn't back down. "Yes."

Curious. "I'm listening."

"I want to see Thor."

Loki laughed. Of course. And while he could easily say no and take her regardless, he was in a rather indulgent mood. Never mind if it played to his advantage to see why his oaf of a not-brother was so fond of the woman.

"Certainly."

000

Teleporting from some BFE town in Kansas to the Avengers Tower in NYC made Zora's stomach churn and her blood rush uncomfortably through her veins, like she'd been spun round and round on a carnival ride, completely upside down, before being placed back on her feet. Loki having a firm grip on her upper arm made her already frayed nerves spark and agitate as she just barely suppressed the urge to break it – but of course, she wouldn't be able to, him being a god and all. Despite all this, the worst part was seeing the Tower manned by the Chitauri, watching as they collectively stared at her with smug, black eyes, feeling their hatred and their otherness in a place she had only just come to consider her home.

"Y'know, for calling the entirety of the human race insects, you sure picked some nasty-looking minions," Zora chirped with a confidence she didn't quite feel, glaring at the slender, pale hand that guided her off of Tony's platform and into the main living room.

She could feel Loki send her a sideways glare. "They are a race of shapeshifters," he clarified in a clipped, condescending tone. "Your feeble human brain could not comprehend their true forms, so they had to, what's the expression? Dumb themselves down a bit. For your benefit, of course."

"Of course," Zora rolled her eyes. She regretted it immediately when the room tilted slightly on its axis. Shock. She was in some form of shock. _One breath, two_ … and she would emerge from it. Any moment now. "It's not as if we invented weapons beyond primitive spears or swords or dabble in space science or have mathematicians and the sort."

She could tell she was ruffling the god's feathers, if only a little. "Your kind is but a speck in the grand scheme of things, things you don't even understand."

 _You're connected to things, Zora. Things you don't understand._

She spoke if only to drown the voice from her head. "And the mighty King Loki will enlighten us?"

Evidently her sarcasm went undetected. Loki stopped sharply and focused another intense look on her, and the shock receded from her like a cold Atlantic tide. "Don't be foolish. Your kind is _incapable_ of comprehending."

"And yet I am perfectly capable of comprehending what an asshole you are. Curious."

Had Zora not killed innumerable Chitauri, lived through a hit from Natasha Romanoff twice, and tore through dozens of supposedly invincible men in an underground fighting pit in Moscow for six months straight, she might have flinched at Loki's scathing glare. As it was, she only internally cringed. "If you want to keep your tongue you will close your mouth," he hissed at her, before shoving her forward once more, to some destination only he knew.

It was, as it turned out, the cruelest destination. Her bedroom. The one Tony had only just gifted her some weeks prior. The one Nat had helped her deck out with posters from all around the world and the odd trinket here and there. The one she and Thor had watched every single episode of The Office in, his laughter ringing through the halls.

Zora felt like she'd been punched in the gut.

"What are we doing here?" she asked lowly.

The God of Lies grinned back at her, blue eyes flashing with mirth. Something sinister lined that smile, something otherly. There was no magic to suppress her shudder this time around. "Why, it's your homecoming, of course. Where else did you expect to stay?"

Zora scratched the back of her head. "The dungeons?" Although if her captor didn't see that to be a fit residence for her, she really shouldn't put it in his head. "But this – this is good. This spells cooperation, so long as I get my end of the bargain."

His grin strained, as if she had made a joke only he understood. "Right. Thor." Loki turned about, seemingly finished with their conversation and, surprisingly, with her. "Tomorrow. I have some meetings, and then I think I could fit some time in for you two to get… reacquainted."

That final word slithered from his tongue with obvious innuendo. Zora sneered. "We're friends. But I wouldn't expect someone like you to know what that's like."

And all those sly smiles faded from the demi-god's face in a flash.

P _ressure point = friend_ s. Attachments. Had he never had any?

Having retreated to her doorway during his exit, Loki turned about and strode right back into Zora's space. Their noses nearly touched, they were so close, and she found it hard to breathe without breathing in the strange smell of him: mint, some sharp scent like gunpowder, some spice.

Her head felt oddly warm.

"Your chambers will be guarded," Loki growled out, every bit the god who had taken over her realm within mere weeks. "Should you try to leave, one of your friends will be killed. Should you wander about the Tower unaccompanied, Thor will be tortured. Should you do anything, at all, without my permission, either or both could occur. Do we have an understanding?"

Zora's teeth grit together so hard she thought they might shatter. Sucking air into her nose, she gave a sharp nod.

Because she needed to remember: there was more at stake than just her life.

000

Loki's nimble, pale fingers twirled the hand-carved miniature of mjiournir around as he studied its craftmanship with a critical eye.

It sang to him. Lowly, sweetly, it called out, wanting to be known. To be heard. And the woman – there was something similar within her, deeper, he had felt when he teleported them back to the Tower. When his magic was engaged, it seemed to align with her. To point him to her, to see her, to hear.

As far as he could figure out, the woman who went by Zora Haque wasn't human.

"You forget your place, Asgardian," the Other hissed in his ashy tone. Loki stood, now, in the Void, upon a lonely rock hovering about space, just beyond a throne to a tyrant who hid his face from all but Death. The Other crept around Loki, some cross between a slug and a snake, his heavy cowl obscuring what Loki was certain were hideous facial features. "You come when called. You do not come on some sort of capricious will."

Back straight, shoulders tautly pulled back, Loki glared back at the Other. In his pocket, he could hear the little carved trinket call out to him. "I have news," Loki said, his impatience leaking into his tone. "Your king will be happy to hear it."

" _My_ king," the Other quipped sharply. "Or _ours_?"

"Our king," Loki corrected as easily as a silvertongue like him could. "My lord Thanos will be eager to hear of my progress."

The Mad Titan himself was perched upon his space-rock throne, an ugly creation that, to Loki's eye, seemed to be slapdashed together without proper finesse.

It was not a throne Loki ached to see himself on.

"The news?" the Titan boomed, his sonic voice seeping into the very air itself. His grotesquely purple skin looked worse still, and Loki wondered, absently, if in his courting of Death, Thanos may be trying to resembling a dying body as much as possible.

"The woman you wished to be apprehended is in my custody," Loki said smoothly, looking beyond the Other to meet Thanos's hard gaze. "I am awaiting your instructions on how to proceed."

Thanos smiled, or Loki assumed it was a smile. His lifeless lips curled upwards in some facsimile of a pleased smirk. "This is good news," the Titan agreed. "But you shall await further instruction. You must still consolidate your power throughout the rest of the realm."

"Of course," Loki said. He swallowed thickly, quick enough to go unnoticed, and barely managed to add, "… my King."

Within a moment, Loki opened his eyes to find himself back in Tony Stark's primary office, the one he had commandeered for himself once he and the Chitari had taken over. No longer did he feel the disturbing stillness of the Void, but the crisp air-conditioning of the tower.

The little trinket found its way into his hands again. Such a sweet song it crooned, something that seemed so familiar, so nostalgic.

He resisted to urge to crush it within his fist and stood. There was much work to be done.

000

Zora did not rest. As soon as her godly captor slammed the door shut behind him countless hours ago, she got to work. Strategy – that was her thing. The one contribution she felt she could earnestly make to the superhuman group known as the Avengers. So, ignoring the twisted voice deep inside her mind whispering, _but where did all your strategy and plans get you, Z? A prisoner to a mad demi-god?_ Zora instead focused all of her energy on developing a Grand Strategy. A rounded, layered plan that would recognize all actors involved in the current situation; all possible resources available to herself, the others in the bunker, and Loki; and, most importantly, how to formulate every possible contingency she might need in order to hold some power in her current state of affairs.

And because there couldn't be a paper trail of any sort, lest she risk Loki discovering her one and only weapon against him, she had to organize everything inside her head.

So when the self-proclaimed king waltzed into her room the next day, princely as ever in his Asgardian attire, he found Zora lying flat on her king-sized bed, staring glossily up at the ceiling, hands spread palm-up at her sides in the most relaxing pose she could manage.

He perched himself against the doorjamb and studied her while the pair remained together in silence. Zora could feel his probing gaze, his sharp eyes that were surely picking apart every rise of her chest, every blink of her eyes.

"Forgive me for the intrusion," the false-king finally began boredly, a cold sort of cordiality lining his words. Zora immediately tensed, ready for the worst. Bad men playing at manners like that could only mean one thing, right? Disaster.

"Can I see Thor, now, or has _his royal highness_ ," she hissed sarcastically, "gone back on our deal?"

Loki gave her that bone-chilling smirk. The very one that she had considered time and again throughout the night, seeking some sort of answer to the question: Was the fallen prince of Asgard truly mad, or something else entirely? "Should you find yourself able to extract yourself from glaring at the ceiling, I would gladly lead you to his current residence."

So smooth. His voice was rich like warm butter. She glowered at the prince and sat up, so sharply that she felt briefly light-headed. "I was thinking," she said, as if she even needed to offer an explanation, though her tone was too defensive for her liking.

Loki gave her a faux-sympathetic look. "I have heard how difficult such a task is for you mortals."

Setting her jaw, Zora straightened out her rumpled clothing and marched towards the door. "Take me to him," was all she managed to growl out.

000

The sub-levels of Stark Tower left much to be desired. Sub-level three, in which Thor was tucked away, was particularly dour, chosen for various reasons. For one, General Saadu would be suspicious if Loki did not subject his most loathed not-brother to the severest of environments accessible, and would thusly report the matter to the Other, who would in turn report to the Mad-Titan himself. In this manner, sub-level three was sublime. It was, perhaps, the closest thing Tony Stark had in this ugly, metal building that resembled Asgard's famed dungeons. Dark, dank, stinking of rot, and lacking in any comfort whatsoever.

He watched, with some satisfaction, as a near imperceptible shudder ran down Zora Haque's spine whilst she took in her surroundings. Good. Let the woman see what conditions Thor had been subjected to. Let her learn to fear him.

The tiny, smug smirk was wiped clean off his face when she spoke, in hushed tones as if paying some sort of perverse respect to the silence that hovered in the air. "Sub-level three," she noted with an air of calculation. "It didn't always look this way."

He had the sense that proper social custom demanded he say something along the lines of "oh?", but he wouldn't deign her the response. It seemed she didn't need one regardless.

"Bruce trained in here," she continued on, unprompted. Then she looked Loki straight in the eye, and he suddenly saw something in her that hadn't been there before. Something that sang to him, strangely, in that same soft croon that came from Thor's little trinket. But fiercer. Darker. Slinking into his chest like a snake. "He trained with me."

Loki did not even blink, but within his mind, he recalled the brutal, savage strength of the one called the Hulk. The very creature that had nearly been Loki's undoing.

And this woman trained with that… thing? The damage, the destruction, of this particular level had been wrought by this strange non-human before him and the most beastly creature he had even encountered in the nine-realms?

He clenched his teeth. "Are we here to reminisce, or were you hoping to see your beloved Thor?"

Zora sneered back at him. "It's no wonder you don't have friends." Then, glancing about the gloomy interior, she nodded. "Where is he?"

He ought to drag her by her hair back to her room, he suddenly thought, viciously playing out the scene in his head. The carelessness with which she spoke to him – _him!_ The ruler of this realm. Prince of Asgard. Loki, God of Mischief and Lies. He was a god, and she was… what?

She wasn't human.

That thought alone spurred him on, stayed his hand and allowed him to keep a cool head. This woman before him, however deceitful her appearance may be, was not human. She was something else entirely, titillating enough to draw the eye of the Mad-Titan, the affection of his not-brother, the comradery of Midgard's Mightiest Heroes.

Loki released a silent breath and stepped forward, nodding for the strange creature to follow.

000

Sub-Level Three had not always been so dour as it was at present. It had been bright, filled with blinding white lights that hung uniformly from the massive ceiling, a soft, somehow pliant grey flooring that had absorbed one of many falls she had taken when training with Bruce, and white walls filled with whatever new tech Tony had devised to test the Hulk and Zora's unusually fluid fighting styles. Quite simply, it had been built for the strange duo: the green-rage monster and the former Special Ops operative.

Bruce had remarked, on so many odd occasions, about Zora's presence acting as some sort of balm for the green-skinned beast that was his other half. Since, as a child, Zora had tamed the viscous dog that had haunted her family's neighborhood for weeks, she simply assumed she was more attuned to primal, wild creatures.

Now, Zora felt a chill creep through the air as she followed Loki, false-king of Midgard, to wherever he had deemed it appropriate to hold the God of Thunder. Her gaze flitted from wall to wall, taking in the exposed brick, the foundations the room had been built upon, remembering every single training session that had eventually turned Sub-Level-Three into the ruin it was now. The floor crumbled here and there beneath her boots, the walls looked eroded, once bright industrial lights hung haphazardly from the ceiling or lay in piles of disrepair on the ground, and the air was thick with the sort of dust that reigned in a room plagued by disuse. It was dark enough that she couldn't see clear across the room, but not too dark that she couldn't easily follow the demi-god as he escorted her to her friend.

When Zora spotted the medieval looking chains over Loki's tall, sharp shoulder, and the familiar muscular arms they were binding, her stomach plummeted to her toes. No longer able to retain her sense of calm, she darted around Loki's tall frame and closed the rest of the short distance between herself and the thunder god, chained like an animal to the wall.

Were it not for the red cape hanging limply at his back, Zora would have questioned if Loki had produced some false version of Thor in order to trick her. The demi-god before her, with arms banded in thick metal cuffs riddled with an ancient, softly-glowing scrawl, looked like a pitiful imitation of the mighty thunder god, the Asgardian prince, the Avenger. His hair, usually lustrously golden, hung wilted and stringy around his face; his jaw hadn't seen a razor – or whatever the godly equivalent was – in far too long, and his brow was furrowed so deeply that Zora worried the frown would never leave his face.

More troublesome, still, was his lack of cognizance. Zora had marched right up to him, stood barely an arm's length away, and still his head hung down, chin resting on his lackluster chest plate, his eyes closed against the ugliness of his makeshift prison.

Crouching down, as if approaching a child, Zora studied his face intently, her jaw clamped so tightly together that she briefly wondered if her teeth would shatter. "Thor?"

Her voice breaking through the eerie silence of Sub-Level Three startled even her. Thor's head suddenly snapped up, his shockingly deep blue eyes finding Zora's in an instant.

A multitude of emotions played across his face – surprise, relief, sadness, and finally, guilt.

"Lady Zora," Thor said quietly, his now alert gaze sweeping over her from head to toes. "Have you been harmed?"

Zora's gut clenched in sorrow. Here Thor was, likely imprisoned here since the rest of the Avengers had fled some weeks ago, and he was wondering about her?

"No," she managed to say in a level tone. Taking in his limp hair again, his sad blue eyes, she asked, "Have you?"

Thor's eyes slid from Zora to the presence hovering over her shoulder before returning back to her. "No. Loki would not harm his own brother."

Zora could've sworn she heard a hiss behind her, but she ignored it, her attention entirely focused on the demi-god in front of her, resting on knees that likely ached from the rough floor. "He stabbed you in battle, Thor," she said, hate seeping into her tone. "He already hurt you."

Thor shook his head, though the action was weak. Was he being fed properly? What could Loki be doing – or perhaps, _not_ doing – to make Thor seem so feeble? "Twas a shallow wound, Lady Haque – not intended to do anything but stun." Thor swallowed thickly and searched her face. "The others? How do they fare?"

Zora's lips pressed into a thin line. What could she tell Thor of the others without giving anything to Loki? What did Loki know and what did he not know?

Was it possible he already knew everything?

"They're fine," she finally said, keeping it as simple as possible. "Worried about you, mostly."

"And now you as well," Thor said sorrowfully, the guilt that had flashed across his face earlier making a reappearance. "Lady Haque, I am so sorry. I fear it is my fault that you have been placed in harm's way." His eyes flickered back down to his chained hands and Zora had to fight back the bile that threatened to rise in her throat.

Thor has always been a hero to her. Different than the others – someone to really look up to, someone she was able to turn to, a true friend. Reaching out, she cupped his bearded jaw and gently tipped it upwards, so his deep blue gaze could meet her eyes. "No one's to blame for this, Thor," she said adamantly. "No one except Loki. Understand? Do not waste a second feeling guilty for this."

The thunder god attempted a weak smile. He seemed tired, suddenly; as if abruptly overtaken by some bone-deep fatigue. Zora knew it couldn't have been natural – she had seen, first hand, how the thunder god could stay awake for days, sometimes weeks, on end. "Perhaps that is true," he allowed, his voice growing softer as his eyes dulled. "There are things out there far greater than any of us, Lady Haque. Our Fates have always rested in the hands of the Norns."

Before she could open her mouth to question him, to breathe any one of the innumerable questions that were suddenly flitting through her confused mind, Thor felt back into the repose he had been in when she initially approached him. Eyes closed, chin tucked on his chest, body relaxing into the chains.

Zora spun around, feeling panicked and unsure and most of all worried for the first Prince of Asgard who had never so much yawned around Zora. She took two measured strides over to Loki, who had been leaning against a half-crumbled column watching the entire exchange with blank eyes, and poked a finger in his chest.

"What the hell have you done to him?" she nearly yelled, feeling an impossible number of emotions at once. Fear and concern for Thor, worry for the others hanging back at the bunker, overwhelmed and confused by the cryptic words her friend had just spoken. Pointing behind her, Zora snarled at the false-king, "He's _sick_. He needs help. A doctor, or – or whatever the hell you guys use in your realm. A healer."

Zora's face flushed red with anger when Loki barked a laugh at her. "Sick?" He raised a perfectly condescending eyebrow, fixing Zora with an amused look. "We are gods, mortal. We do not become sick." Loki's raven head nodded at Thor's bindings, his eyes still lit with amusement. "The chains drain his natural store of magic. It won't kill him."

"And I should just believe you?"

"Have I given you the impression that you have any other choice?"

Her mouth snapped shut. There was _always_ a choice. Always. Except when the rest of your friends' lives were at stake. "I want a guarantee that you're not killing him," she finally said, settling her steely look on the god.

Loki laughed at her again, his teeth impossibly white in the dark of Sub-Level Three. "For a prisoner, you're quite demanding, Lady Haque." His blue eyes flashed darkly at her, forcing her to take a lengthy step back. "But I have already humored one of your demands for the sake of _cooperation_ ," he said, his voice curling over the word's syllables as elegantly as his irate tone allowed. "I will not indulge another."

Suddenly, his snow-white hand gripped her forearm, almost bruisingly, and Zora felt her stomach flip about inside her body as he teleported them back to her room within the tower. Nausea hit her like a tidal wave, the sensation of being in one place one moment and a different place the next disorienting and stomach-churning.

Zora gripped the edge of her bed tightly to regain her balance. Just as quickly as the prince's hand had grabbed her, it let go, leaving her to adjust to gravity all on her own.

Despite being so blindsided and off-balance, Zora tilted her head up to give the prince a fiery glare. "Do _not_ do that again," she bit out, a snarl on her lips.

Loki just smirked at her from the doorway. "Another demand. Be cautious, Lady Haque. I may begin to think you've decided to stop cooperating with me, and we don't want that, do we?"

With that, he shut the door, boxing her in the room once more. Zora let herself fall face-first onto the comforter she and Nat had picked out so many weeks ago and restrained a frustrated scream.

000

Clint watched his partner pace the bunker's security room like a bloodthirsty lioness, her boot-clad feet completely silent on the concrete floor, her shoulders squared for battle, her red mouth pulled into a deep scowl.

"Nat," he said carefully, twirling an arrow absently in his hands as Tony typed furiously into the supercomputer sitting at the center of the room. "I think you're making Banner a little… agitated."

Natasha's soul-killing look zeroed in on Clint, effectively silencing him. "I shouldn't have let her go."

It was Cap who decided to risk Natasha's ire, crossing his arms over his chest as he hovered behind Tony's chair. "You couldn't have known," the war-relic said matter-of-factly. Despite the comforting words, even Steve was on edge, his eyes sharp and alert, focused Tony's insanely fast typing.

" _I should have known_ ," Natasha hissed, rounding on the Captain and anyone else who dared meet her eye. There was a darkness to her expression Clint had only seen once before, when his eldest, Cooper, had broken his arm climbing a tree in the middle of one of the assassins' missions, and she couldn't be there right away to try to make it better.

He was never sure if it was some amped up maternal instinct that made Nat thirst for blood when one of her own was in danger or something else entirely, but fuck, was she terrifying.

"Natasha," Banner spoke up, drawing her steely gaze onto him. His hands were balled into fists at his sides – a total red flag for Clint, but hey, if no one else cared if the scientist hulked-out in the underground bunker, then whatever, right? – but his face was calm. Calmer than anyone else in the room. "Clint's right. If you don't sit down, I might start turning a little green."

Natasha stared at Banner a moment longer before promptly finding a seat beside Barton. Her agitation hadn't fizzled out, though. Instead, she started aberrantly bouncing her knee up and down, her focus turning to Tony as well – the center of gravity in the room, the only promise for information on their missing teammate.

"Anything?" Nat asked after several moments in silence, her muscles coiled up in preparation for an answer. Any answer.

Tony sighed heavily. His fingers finally paused over the keyboard as he glanced around the room, an uncharacteristic frown weighing heavy on his lips. "Yeah. Well. Found something a few minutes ago, but I was trying to follow up with it before… alerting the troops." He waved offhandedly towards Natasha.

The assassin immediately stood and glided over to Tony. "Show me."

Tony said nothing; he merely hit a button on the keyboard as the rest of the crew gathered around the screen. A video started playing – a surveillance clip, by the grainy look of it and the lack of audio – of the single grocery store in the one-stoplight town the Avengers-minus-Thor had holed up in only three weeks ago.

Clint's stomach coiled into knots. There she was. Zora.

The team watched in complete silence as a panicked Zora bumped-face first into Loki, who had materialized in front of her in order to block her escape from the store. No one said anything as she pulled her gun and turned it on herself, tried pulling the trigger several times to no avail, before sprinting away from the demi-god again. As he caught her in some sort of magical-hold and defeat was scrawled all over her face.

For a moment, Clint felt burning hot anger at Fury for getting the agent involved in this whole mess. Zora was _young_. So young. Half his age, at least, with the rest of her life ahead of her. But as he and the others watched Loki blink them out of existence, leaving only bystanders and witnesses huddling around in their wake, he realized how short the woman's life could turn out to be. How short it definitely would have been, had she managed to blow her brains out like she'd clearly intended to do.

Just to protect them.

" _Blyadt!_ " Natasha hissed quietly, turning away from the screen to resume her pacing, only to remember Banner's request. She stood unnervingly still, arms crossed firmly over her chest, her eyes flickering from one Avenger to the next as she thought.

Tony rubbed at his goatee. "Gotta admit, though. Kid has balls. She was gonna take one for the team, even if – "

"If you finish that sentence, Tony, _you_ will be the first person the other guy will wanna smash the next time he comes out," Banner snapped, his eyes dark, putting everyone in the room on edge.

Tony raised his hands defensively. "Okay, sheesh, okay. Just sayin'. That takes guts."

"It should have been me," Natasha said quietly, her voice turning a deadly, dark shade. She glared around the room, daring someone to speak up against her. "We need a game plan," she continued after several beats of silence, turning to face Cap.

Steve nodded brusquely. "We know where Loki's holed up," the Captain said. "What are the chances of him keeping Zora someplace else?"

"Slim," Clint chimed in. "He'd want her close. Probably has Thor around, too. The closer they are to him, the more controllable. Easier to see if they're up to something."

"And knowing Zora," Tony added. "She's always up to something."

Natasha set her jaw. "So we prep to go back to the Tower."

Steve glanced around the room, reading the consensus on the team's faces. "All right," he agreed. "But we're gonna need to plan this down to the minute."

000

The tiny wood carving of mjiournir serenaded Loki all throughout the day. During meetings with former heads of states, negotiations of terms of surrender, and the strategy sessions he held with General Saadu and the other high-ranking Chitauri generals, it purred for him. Sometimes quiet, merely a hum holding a tune in the back of his mind, and other times excited, crooning to him, beckoning him towards some point he couldn't quite grasp. It oscillated its tunes and frequencies, distracting him on occasion, pulling his very valuable focus into frays.

It had only worsened after taking the mortal woman to see Thor. When she had rounded on Loki and poked him in the chest, the trinket almost laughed, giddy, heady and intoxicated.

It left his mind with a puzzle that needed solving. A puzzle he was missing so many pieces to. And besides, the Mad Titan would have fulfilled his ambiguous need of the mortal any time now. So did it matter?

Yes. It mattered. Because try as he might, he could not forget that the mortal was in fact _not_ a mortal, but something else entirely. Something he didn't know. Something that had left an intense magical fingerprint on such a trivial trinket.

Zora Haque was an aggravating and inconvenient mystery. Were he still Loki, second Prince of Asgard, trickster and silver-tongue, he might've been intrigued by such a mystery. But that version of himself was long dead. Too much had happened since then; too much had been seen, had been bargained.

"Your majesty," the rough, unpleasant tenor that was General Saadu's voice broke into Loki's thoughts, rousing him from repose in the commandeered office of Tony Stark.

Loki sat up straighter, canting his head towards the Chitauri general like a king addressing his subject.

 _Why did it still feel so forced_?

"What is it?"

The General did not go to great lengths to hide his distaste for Loki, which was precisely why Loki had chosen him to be his chief military advisor. Better to work with a creature who had no care to deceive Loki on such trivial matters.

"It is the Chinese, your majesty," Saadu said in the single, flat tone his voice only ever took on. "Their delegation has just informed one of your diplomats that they would prefer war to submission."

Loki sighed and rose from his chair. Thoughts of Germany slid through his mind; the mayhem, the destruction, after he had set the full force of the Chitauri army on the country's capital. So much bloodshed. So many dead.

Surrendering was the better option, which was why he worked so hard to send diplomats to those countries that were still holding out. But diplomacy had its limits.

"So be it."

000

When Tony marched in to the living room, hair askew and glasses falling down his nose to reveal reddened eyes, everyone immediately knew something was wrong. Very wrong. Hands that were charting out maps of the Tower stilled and equations were left half-finished.

"Zora?" Steve managed to ask first, his thoughts automatically turning to their newest recruit. Would Loki have killed her so quickly? Would he truly see her as so worthless that he'd snuff out her life like a mayfly?

Tony shook his head, and the room collectively breathed a sigh of relief.

"Then what is it?" Banner asked, his thick-framed glasses resting low on his nose, his hair tousled from falling asleep on the couch sometime within the past several hours.

"China," was all Tony said. "It's China."

There was a moment of confusion before Clint asked, warily, "China? You mean… they surrendered?"

He had almost said _finally_ , but caught himself at the last minute. Loki's swift domination of the world was really getting to him, if he could possibly think like that. If he could possibly think it would be better for the rest of the world to surrender than fight back.

"No," Tony said, a mixture of fear and excitement lighting up his tired face. "No. That's just it. Those fuckers said they're going to put up a fight." And he grinned, like this was the best news he'd received in his entire lifetime.

Steve scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, trying but failing to hide his worried frown. "Tony… You remember what happened to Germany. The Chinese'll get slaughtered. They're no match for Loki's armies."

"That's just it," Tony continued, hardly missing a beat. His eyes flickered wildly around the room, the way they always did when he had a 'brilliant' idea. "Loki will be so focused on preparing for war with China… and that's our move. That's our in. _No one_ will get slaughtered."

The pieces fell into place. "You think we could blindside him."

Tony's excitement morphed into grim determination. "I think we can show that fucker what we're made of and get our girl outta there. But we have to start _now_."

Natasha's eyes glowed the way they always did before a big fight. "Then let's pick up the pace."

000

Zora was staring blankly outside the floor-to-ceiling window in her bedroom when a familiar, _irritating_ voice rang out from behind her. "Does the prisoner have any demands for supper?"

She didn't turn to acknowledge him. Instead, her eyes followed a hazy trail of smoke rising from the rubble of a skyscraper several blocks over. In her mind, she was replaying the Battle of New York. The frenzy, the utter chaos that had devoured the city she so loved. Frightened faces running on the streets, blood trickling from bodies that hadn't been able to escape the warzone. People's belongings, strewn about the city from apartment complexes that had been reduced completely to ash.

It had been such a nightmare. Was still a nightmare, forcing her awake most nights, replaying again and again until she started to get the details mixed up.

They had failed New York City. They had failed the world. And now, Zora had failed her friends. Getting herself captured by the same man who wanted to turn her world into ruins.

Since seeing the feeble state Thor, the Mighty God of Thunder, had been reduced to, Zora's confidence had all but diminished. If Thor could look so weak… what chance did she stand against Loki and his machinations? What good were her strategies against an opponent who had thousands of years of experience on her? It was analogous to a novice playing chess with a master.

Feeling Loki's presence lingering at her door – he had a certain atmosphere about him that thickened the air, almost – Zora recalled his earlier question and realized he was probably going to wait until she decided to answer him. He had all the time in the world, after all.

"No," she finally said, her tone flat yet void of the bitterness she felt towards him.

His soft chuckle rang quietly through the room, a genuine laugh rather than one of his condescending barbs. Zora scowled to herself for even noticing.

"Oh my," the false-king said tauntingly, his voice suddenly closer, as if he had moved into the center of the room. "Don't tell me my so charmingly _willful_ captive has lost hope, already?" Another chuckle, though this one was darker. "I might've thought it'd take at least a week. Two, perhaps."

Putting the scene of New York's ruins behind her, Zora faced the demi-god with a glower. "What is it you want?"

He wanted her to cooperate and that was exactly what she was doing. _Cooperating_. Why the fuck he was bothering her was beyond her comprehension at the moment, and quite truthfully, testing her very brittle patience.

The god merely gave Zora a smirk. "I thought you might join me to dine this evening."

"A last meal?" she asked sardonically, quirking an eyebrow.

Loki rolled his eyes. "A show of kindness. Or do you think that I'm evil straight through to my core?"

 _No_ , she thought to herself, annoyed. His single redeeming quality was the velvety smooth sound of his voice, always so controlled, always so elegant and musical. And even for that, Zora hated him.

Rather than voicing such thoughts aloud, Zora instead stared down the demi-god, scrutinizing his every movement, skepticism written plainly on her pale face. "I do not have dinner with lunatics who aspire to take over my world."

Loki's bright blue gaze took on a strange shade of blackness. "Watch how you speak to me, mortal," he hissed, transforming from beguiling and gentlemanly prince one moment to a snake baring its fangs the next. "I can end you without so much as raising my hand, and where would that leave your precious friends?"

 _Without an extra liability,_ Zora couldn't help but think darkly. Not for the first time since Loki had forced her back to the tower, she wished he hadn't kept her Glock from blowing her head off. Things would have been better for the others, or so she could have hoped.

"I'm not having dinner with you," Zora reiterated in a determinedly less caustic tone, but kept her eyes level with the false-king. "I do, however, need some air. Being stuck in this room all day is driving me insane."

Not necessarily the truth, but getting outside of these four walls would give Zora some idea regarding exactly how many Chitauri she'd have to fight her way through or sneak her way past if the day came that she needed to flee and find the others.

Evidently, her motivations were as transparent as the glass windows taunting Zora with a macabre view of her broken city. Loki grinned at her and gestured towards the open doorway behind him. "Then by all means, allow me to escort you to the balcony."

000

After taking a short detour to Tony's fully stocked bar in the main living space to pour herself some bourbon – and giving herself a moment to map out and count the number of Chitauri she'd seen on the way here – Zora headed out towards the balcony, purposefully staying a step ahead of the demi-god, if only to undermine his control over the situation.

After she'd settled herself against the steel and glass balcony outside and took a healthy sip from her tumbler, Loki spoke. "I think perhaps you don't quite comprehend the meaning of _escort_ ," he nearly snorted, blue eyes pinning her to the spot intently. Where she expected to find ire, she found amusement instead.

Great. It was one thing to be the locus of the false-king's anger; it was another entirely to be his source of amusement. The latter, she felt, was eons more demeaning.

Zora blinked at him innocently, pursing her lips in thought. "You mean in the same way you don't quite grasp the concept of _a show of kindness_?"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Not for what the god could do to her, but because she was already walking on such thin ice around him. Anything could set his madness off. And the universe knew how _very_ good Zora was at poking lions until they bit.

But again, instead of his strange blue eyes taking on any hint of annoyance, he grinned. "Touché." Turning, he himself leaned his forearms against the steel frame of the balcony, bright blue eyes gazing out at the ruins he created, allowing himself a moment of repose that she'd not yet seen.

Zora stared at him openly as she sipped her bourbon, her thoughts running wild. If she had the means, any means, she would kill him now. Right now. The hive-like structure of the Chitauri would crumble if their leader fell. The world could right itself again. The others wouldn't have to hide out in some underground bunker in BFE like they weren't celebrated heroes, with family and friends and people to get back to. Thor wouldn't look so… sickly.

She was forced to grip the tumbler in her hands tighter, if only to restrain the itch to throw herself at the demi-god and attempt to strangle him with her bare hands. If a bullet would barely make a scratch on his perfect ivory skin, her hands would certainly do no more than tickle.

But at least it would wipe the smug, amused look off his face.

Sucking in air to clear her head, Zora frowned deeply as she could taste the smoke tainting the air. New York's air had never been refreshing by any means… but this made Zora's heart wilt. Like earlier, her gaze fell upon the scattered ruins of her city, replaying a battle she had never wanted to be part of.

"It is ugly," Loki stated from beside her, startling her almost to the point of dropping her tumbler. Thankful to turn her eyes anywhere but the disaster before them, she studied the god, a furrow between her brows that quickly morphed into annoyance.

"Our city?" Her irritation couldn't be swept from her tone. "You're seriously calling our city ugly right now, after you've essentially destroyed it?"

On second thought, why couldn't she just try to strangle him with her hands?

However, when Loki turned his blue-eyed gaze on her, she realized she had miscalculated. "No," he said simply. "The destruction. The ruin. It is ugly."

He stated it so matter-of-factly, but if Zora wasn't projecting – and that was a big if – he seemed almost… remorseful?

That didn't align with the lunatic alien she'd come to know. The god who put his brother in chains, who led an army of disgusting alien creatures, who had popped up on the news station after he had successfully razed New York to the ground and proclaimed that he now bore the right to rule over Earth's lowly mortals.

"Yeah," Zora replied bitterly, inhaling still more smoke that polluted the air. "What you did to our city was ugly."

He didn't disagree, and suddenly, Zora felt petrified. Like a tiny little speck in a vast universe she didn't understand at all. _You're connected to things, Zora. Things you don't understand_. Suddenly, that couldn't have been truer. She didn't understand any of this. Not at all.

Pinching her eyes shut against the thoughts, she forced herself to ask a question that had been needling her since she stood under the fluorescent lights of that grocery store and saw Loki standing there, at the very end of the makeup aisle: "Why me?"

His head canted towards her, graceful like a lazy cat. His eyes were utterly unreadable. "Pardon?"

"Why me?" Zora repeated, louder this time. "Why not one of the others? Not like I _want_ to trade places with them – better me than them, any day. _But why me?_ "

The god before her grew eerily still. She had never particularly noticed, until this moment, how sharp his features were, how inky black his hair was compared to his flawless bone-white skin, how unnervingly blue his irises were, as if they didn't quite match the rest of his character. His lips were thin, pressed into a hard, white line, but the rest of his face was perfectly relaxed and unreadable.

"Because, Lady Haque," he said, and something inside her shifted at the way he said _Lady Haque_ without the usual ire or threat or taunt he spoke to her with. "The Norns are mysterious beings. Some things simply _are_."

It wasn't the answer she was looking for, but it was an answer, nonetheless. "I don't believe in your Norns."

He laughed. Genuinely. Some of the blue in his eyes lightened as his eyes crinkled. "Your belief in them does not grant them their existence. Their existence simply allows you the choice of believing or not."

"Which is a smartass way of saying, _Your thoughts don't matter_ ," Zora muttered with annoyance, frowning down at her near-empty tumbler.

"In the end," Loki mused, "do any of our thoughts matter?"

000

When he arrived in China's capital later that evening, Loki kept wondering the same thing. When he prepared to execute the country's head of state on their live television, he thought of the strange creature Thanos had made him procure. Her curious magical fingerprints, the singing miniature of mjiournir in his trouser pocket.

When he watched the Chitauri army march into the infamous Tianemen Square, prepared to isolate and viciously put down any form of resistance to Loki's rule, he wondered if a version of himself who didn't fall through the Void would've played at being king to a realm he had never had any machinations for.

Then he wondered if any of that even mattered, in the grand scheme of things.

As he remembered his fall through the Void, the answer he received was a resounding, fear-inducing _no_.

000

Zora tapped out a nameless rhythm with her fingertips, her eyes focused intently on the doorway. Five days had passed since her conversation with Loki on the balcony. Five days, and she had seen neither hide nor hair of the self-proclaimed king, the bane of her existence, the Dr. Jekel and Mr. Hyde of the Asgardian realm.

So you could say she was a little on edge. You could even say she was getting _nervous_.

Meals had been prepared for her three times a day, delivered by a thin-looking Chitauri soldier who spoke in rasps and grunts she hardly understood to be English, which in itself, was a surprise. She had been afforded supervised ( _extremely_ supervised) visits to the balcony, which she wholeheartedly took advantage of, if only to continue her surveillance of the soldiers stationed at the tower and their routines. All in all… she was being treated fairly. Well, even. Like a guest rather than a prisoner, if someone ever kept their guests more or less locked up inside their room for most of the day.

So it was only natural to assume that the other shoe was hovering high above her head, waiting to drop at any given moment. Loki's absence only heightened that feeling. Hell, Loki's absence was the precise reason for that feeling.

For a fleeting moment, Zora wondered if the others were disappointed in her for being caught. For being subservient to the very man who had nearly killed them all, who had taken Thor hostage, who had decimated cities and lives and uprooted reality as they'd known it.

Would they welcome her back into their strange little fold once all this was over?

Would all this ever be over?

000

Loki had been occupied with small uprisings springing up throughout the Chinese countryside when he'd felt it: a tiny, foreign pinprick of thought that beckoned him to the Void.

Keeping a scowl off his lips, Loki nodded brusquely at General Saadu before quickly transporting himself back into the former Prime Minister's quarters in Beijing, hands clenched at his sides.

Thanos wanted to see him. And who was Loki, the puppet, to refuse his master?

The miniature mjiournir hummed quietly in his pocket, a balm to his frustrated mind. Before he could even think of it, he found himself curling long fingers around the strange object, feeling out its contours as if its simple presence could soothe him.

When he _did_ think of it, he released the item as if it'd scorched his hand and stared down at his palm like it was a foreign limb.

 _What in the Nine Realms –_

A shooting pain at the base of his skull alerted him to Thanos' impatience. If Loki waited any longer, he would look defiant. The time he had spent in the Void prior to his invasion of Midgard taught him what defiance would bring him.

Withdrawing into himself, into the Void that beckoned him, Loki blinked, opening his eyes to the lone fragment of space-rock on which the Mad Titan had built his throne. The Other trailed around various boulders that dotted the massive rock like some deformed lion, hunched and hidden beneath his black cowl. Despite not seeing a face, Loki knew the Other was watching him, scrutinizing his every expression, every shift. Waiting for a sign of weakness.

"You did not answer when called, Odinson," Thanos's booming, rumbling voice accused, dark eyes settling on the second Prince of Asgard.

Loki did not bat an eye. Appearance was everything. "I've been securing my rule over Midgard," he answered smoothly, ignoring the Other's leer. "It has kept me rather engaged."

"So engaged that you cannot come when your king calls upon you?"

The fallen prince offered a contrite smile. "Forgive me, my king. It shall not happen again."

"See that it does not," Thanos replied warily, shifting in his galactic throne. The full weight of his stare settled on the Asgardian, and Loki suddenly realized that whatever Thanos wanted of him now, Loki would not like it.

"The girl in your custody," the Mad Titan said as offhandedly as if he were speaking of a pet. "Her time has come."

Loki's brow furrowed. The mjiournir resting safe in his pocket ceased its humming abruptly, as if it, too, hoped it had misheard the Dark Lord. "I fear I don't understand…"

Thanos almost grinned. Or perhaps he was grinning, in that macabre way of his. A shiver threatened to run down Loki's spine, but he steeled himself.

"Lady Death calls for Zora Haque, Odinson," Thanos clarified, his lips twisting up into an ugly smile. "I trust you will handle it."

For once, the trinket that had Zora Haque's magical fingerprint on it did not croon to him. It was silent. Utterly silent. Something about the lack of the sound the god had acclimated to over the past several days unnerved him more than he cared to admit.

"Of course… my king."

Blinking, he found himself back inside the Prime Minister's quarters, facing a mirror placed over a short wardrobe. Loki stared at himself for several long moments, the silence enveloping him.

000

Zora was half-asleep when the door to her room flew open, banging loudly against the wall. Startled, she rolled off her bed and into a crouch on the floor, her hand seeking out a weapon that wasn't there, her eyes sharp and alert as her heart fluttered like a caged hummingbird in her chest.

"Good," the God of Lies said to her, tone curt, cold. "You're up."

Call it intuition or call it being bound to things she didn't quite understand, but Zora realized that the other shoe was about to fucking drop. Right now.

"Loki?"

It was the first time she'd said his name aloud, and by the way he flinched, she wasn't the only one who realized this. He stared at Zora as if she'd slapped him clear across the face, and Zora almost wished she had. Behind him, waiting impatiently in the hallway, stood a foursome of Chitauri soldiers. All waiting for their king.

And for her, she assumed.

Her gut clenched, _hard_. This wasn't right. This was off.

The god's wide, unnervingly blue eyes slid down Zora's figure as she straightened up, taking in her thin tank top and small shorts. Zora wanted to throw her arms across herself like a blushing girl, but forced herself to remain still under his now-blank stare. She was more concerned with the nature of his midnight visit. Of the guards hovering in the hallway. Of the lump forming in her throat.

"Get dressed," Loki said shortly, nodding towards her closet as if she were a dog playing fetch.

Zora didn't move. "What's going on?"

"I said _get dressed_ ," he hissed, making the young agent's blood run cold in her veins. "Or did your pathetic mortal ears not hear me?"

Alarm bells were ringing in Zora's head. Slowly, she passed by the self-proclaimed king to reach her closet. After shuffling around for a moment, she slipped a pair of sweatpants on over her shorts and yanked a crew-neck over her head. Turning back to him, eyes wary, she asked, "Is his majesty pleased with this?" in as sarcastic of a manner as she could muster, gesturing towards herself with a flourish, trying desperately to keep her hand from trembling.

Her body seemed to know what was going on far before her mind did.

"Shoes," Loki barked at her, and Zora stared at him a moment too long before stuffing her feet into her favorite pair of boots. "Good." Then he stepped aside and motioned for her to walk ahead of him, in the center of her supposed four-man escort.

The cotton ball dryness in her throat threatened to choke her. Zora stared at the waiting Chitauri soldiers, at the glee glinting bright in their black, beady eyes. Turning her focus to Loki, she watched as he didn't quite meet her gaze. His bright blue eyes were staring just off beyond her shoulder, hard, impenetrable, blank.

Her stomach flipped, but she kept her shoulders back and didn't let it show. As she stepped past the fallen prince, her arm brushed his, cotton meeting metal armor, and Zora realized just how breakable she was, in that moment. How easily crushed she could be. How very _mortal_ she was.

Assuming her place in the center of her armed escort, she forced herself not to look back at Loki as she followed the soldiers through familiar, winding halls. Recognizing their route as one that led to the rooftop, Zora ran through any number of scenarios that could play out in the next few minutes.

Was he handing her off to someone else? Had he decided she hadn't cooperated enough with him and wanted to show her what the consequences would be?

Was he going to kill her?

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Zora knew, instinctively, that this was it. Loki was going to kill her. She was being walked to her execution in a Hello-Kitty crewneck and Victoria Secret sweatpants.

She was going to die.

Sucking in a deep breath, Zora tried to find some of the resolve she'd had just a week earlier, at the grocery store just a mile away from the Avenger's secret bunker, when she'd been more than willing to blow her head off to keep Loki from getting his hands on her. But her mind couldn't reconcile the differences. At that time, she was trying to protect the others.

Why did he want her dead, now?

Zora stopped when they reached the main living space, the stairs leading to the rooftop just in view. She had halted so abruptly that one of the Chitauri following behind her rammed into her back, nearly shoving her off-balance. Steadying herself, she rounded on Midgard's false king, her face red with anger, her eyes prickling with the onset of tears that she would not allow.

"Why now?"

Even to her own ears, her voice sounded numb. Defeated. Accepting. She was resigned to this fate. No amount of fighting, no finesse or fighting skill or strategy, could keep the Chitauri from hauling her up those stairs and to her execution. As Loki had said the other day, _Some things simply_ are.

Loki stood rigid some five feet away from her, his eyes on his shiny black boots, brow furrowed deeply. When it didn't look like he would answer right away, Zora stepped towards him, only to be pulled back by an alien limb. "I asked _why now?_ Why now, huh? You've had me nearly a week. We had a deal. I've been cooperating, like you asked! _Why now?_ "

When he finally looked at her, Zora felt the air leave her lungs. Unbridled remorse shone bright in his eyes, paired with sheer determination. A dizzying mix.

When he opened his lips, Zora was expecting an answer. A sound reason that could possibly explain why the god was leading her to her death despite their deal. Instead, he asked, "What are you?"

Floored, Zora nearly reared back and chanced bumping into another Chitauri soldier. "Excuse me?"

Having collected himself into his usual calm, superior manner, Loki approached her slowly. "What are you?" he repeated, enunciating each word, an undercurrent to his voice that made her wonder if this was something he _needed_ to know. Not simply wanted to know.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He was leading her to her death and he wanted to discuss _what she was_?

Just a foot away, now, Zora could appreciate how tall the fallen prince truly was. She craned her neck back to stare at him, bewildered, lips parted and anxious to shout and yell and plead. But she remained silent. His blue eyes seemed darker than normal. She felt like she was staring off into a deep abyss.

Shaking his head, to himself, she was sure, Loki motioned to the guards.

"This will do," he said coldly, the remorse that had colored his gaze not seconds ago receding with every word.

Zora stared at him helplessly as she was forced to her knees. "Why now?" she asked again, realizing these could be her very last words. "Why _me_?"

He looked away from her and towards the balcony.

What had changed between the night they'd spoken out there and today?

"Sometimes, Lady Haque," he said, slowly and quietly, as if it pained him to even push the words past his lips, "there are greater forces that choose which strings to clip and which to save."

Her heart sped up. Her hands felt clammy. "Is that all I am? A string?"

Blue eyes met her green. "I've been wondering that." Straightening up, squaring his shoulders, he looked every bit the monarch she had not seen him as. Cruel and all-commanding and ethereal.

Immortal, in the way she was not.

"It's time," he told her, tone growing softer, as if speaking to an upset child. "What shall I tell your Avengers?"

The god standing before Zora was too many things at once for her to get a good grasp on any of them. Remorseful and cruel and soft and sharp.

 _What shall I tell your Avengers?_ Not even a taunt. A final rite.

Zora swallowed thickly. Was proud that she met his eyes with such heat in her own. "Tell them to tear your world apart."

And just as she expected to hear the chambering of a bullet or the swing of a blade, something else happened.

There was a _clang_ , outside, on the balcony. A whirr of noise so familiar to her, since the Battle of New York…

Iron Man walked into his lounge in full armor, his metal feet shaking the floor beneath Zora's knees. "Don't have to worry about that, kiddo," Tony's tinny voice said, a smirk clear in his tone. "We're gonna blow this bastard back to the hell he came from."

And as the rest of the Avengers filtered into the room, taking out the Chitauri hovering around Zora and finally, finally pointing their weapons at Loki, would-be King of Midgard, Zora realized that Loki's expression had changed from cold and brutal… to relieved.

000

 _Two Weeks Later_

"Yo, kid," Tony said, passing through the kitchen with a bowl of blueberries in hand. His hair was sticking up every which way in typical Tony fashion, but Zora absorbed the details hungrily, still fretful that she'd wake up one moment and realize that everything since Loki had stormed into her weeks two nights ago had been a dream.

That the Avengers had never rescued her.

That she was still going to be executed.

" _Kid_ ," Tony said again, waving a particularly large blueberry in front of Zora's face. She blinked and looked up at the genius, quirking a brow. "I _said_ , take the day off. Actually, I've said that every day since we got back. So take a fucking day off, okay?"

Zora rolled her eyes at the man and grabbed a blueberry out of his bowl to pop into her mouth. "I'll sleep when I'm dead," she said dramatically, skirting around him to grab the bagel that popped out of the toaster. "There's a lot to be done right now, Tony, and no one else is taking a day off."

The billionaire snorted. "Yeah. No one else had to be shacked up with Reindeer Games like you. If it had been _me_ , I'd leave this place and never come back."

"Well thank the _gods_ it isn't you, Tony. Since you live here and all that."

Natasha slunk into the kitchen, a tired-looking Thor on her heels.

Zora still stared at Thor like he might collapse at any moment, still remembered how dazed he had been, how weak.

She had never mentioned it to the others, and she sensed the Thunder God was grateful for this, in some way. He flashed her a bright smile.

"Lady Haque!" he bellowed, pulling her into a near bone-crushing hug. "And here I thought I wouldn't see you before we left."

Her heart clenched up. "You're leaving?"

The tall, broad-shouldered Asgardian nodded grimly. "Indeed. It is time for Loki to face the Allfather's judgement."

As she was bringing her breakfast bagel to her mouth, Zora froze instantly and nearly dropped the damn thing.

Loki would be leaving for Asgard in chains. Today.

Staring back at Thor, she could almost _feel_ his hesitance to return to his home realm. Clearly, the Thunder God feared Odin's judgement. And if Thor feared something like that…

Things would not pan out well for Loki.

Smiling at the future king of Asgard, Zora gave him another pat on the shoulder and slid past him. "I'll see you before you leave, okay? I've got some things to do."

000

Visiting the cell of the god who held you captive for nearly a week would probably be considered crazy by anyone's standards. Visiting the cell of the god who had tried to take your entire _world_ over?

Zora wondered if some of Loki's madness might've rubbed off on her.

Regardless, she swiped her security badge on the elevator and punched the button for Sub-Level Three, which had been transformed in the past two weeks to accommodate a certain godly prisoner and a round-the-clock security detail.

When the elevator doors pulled open, Zora stepped out into the now-brightly lit room, nodding at agents passing by her and the elite security team hovering around a group of desks that likely had footage of every angle of Loki's "cell".

Her feet pressed on of their own accord. Following a path she had followed once before, when desperate to see the Thunder God, when her fate had been so uncertain. So much could change in two weeks. So many new questions could arise.

Things were still changing and new questions were still forming.

When she noticed the long, pale fingers hanging from the twin bracelets holding Loki against the wall, she forced herself to keep a blank face. Deep inside, her stomach was in knots.

Zora would never forget the way he had looked at her, right before he was about to order her execution. So regretful. So hesitant. But willing. Determined.

Blue-green eyes landed on her, as sharp as ever. "I was curious if you'd visit," he intoned in that deep, elegant voice of his, making the knots in Zora's stomach squirm.

Zora stared at him, gazes meeting levelly, neither willing to back down first. Now that her friends' lives weren't on the line, she didn't feel the need to be demur. To glance down first or show any sign of weakness.

Holding his strange gaze, Zora asked, "Why me?"

Loki threw his head back and laughed, despite the chains holding him awkwardly against the wall. How he managed to look so much stronger than Thor had, she couldn't imagine. But Thor had been locked up for weeks longer than Loki. The runed bracelets would've had time to slowly absorb his natural magic in that time.

Right?

When Loki's eyes twinkled at her in pure mirth – as if he were not a prisoner, but some decorated guest – Zora had to restrain the urge to charge at him and wipe the look right off his face.

"You're asking questions that only the Norns have answers to, darling," Loki finally said, after his challenging stare didn't force her away.

Zora canted her chin. "Then show me the way to the Norns."

He grinned, sharp, white teeth. "Here I was under the impression you held no belief in them?"

"I believe you're a douchebag and yet still you're somehow also a god," Zora shot back, teeth barred. "So I'm willing to have an open mind."

"How unfortunate for you, then, that you were doomed to have such a feeble, mortal brain."

Rolling her eyes, Zora stepped closer to the imprisoned god. "My feeble mortal brain is capable of recognizing your inferiority complex, but please," she scoffed, "tell me more about how stupid you think I am."

"If only we had the time," the fallen god said with a shrug of his shoulders, the chains connected to his wrists rattling against the cement wall. "Alas, time runs short even for a god, and the Allfather will ensure mine is even shorter."

Zora studied him carefully. "Sounds like you're rather eager."

Loki's smile was calculated. "What would you choose, Lady Haque?" he asked, nodding at her primly. "Imprisonment or death?"

"Death," she said instantly, nearly biting her tongue off to keep the word from escaping her lips. She grimaced, knowing, somehow, she'd said too much.

Loki merely smiled imperiously at her.

"You didn't want to kill me," she said abruptly. "I know you didn't."

Blue-green eyes narrowed. "You claim to know things beyond you," was his quick reply. "You've seen so little of the universe and pretend to know otherwise. Tell me, Lady Haque, what do you _really_ know?"

 _You're connected to things, Zora. Things you don't understand yet._

She didn't want to understand. She really didn't.

Instead, she raised one perfectly arched brow and returned the god's signature haughty look. "Give me some credit. It's what _you_ know that matters, isn't it?"

And she left him there, satisfied to have seen a spark of indignation in those strange eyes of his, suddenly perfectly content to have Fate leave her alone just a little bit longer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two** :

The new world order was bleak, but it was a start. So many presidents or prime ministers had either been executed or deposed, so many countries broken or destroyed, so many people dead. The world had to rebuild itself, but at least it didn't have to start from scratch, and Tony's new aid programs providing resources and people to countries that needed them helped, even in a small sense.

Zora was glad to be busy. To be flying from country to country for however many weeks at a time to consult governments in turmoil or help construct buildings in a decimated city. She couldn't stand the silence of the Tower, the concerned looks turned her way, the questions, the prodding. Cap had benched her for the time being, saying that as a friend, he was _worried_. Tony had backed him up, as shocking as that was. Nat knocked on her bedroom door in the Tower one night to try the former assassin's attempt at a heart to heart, which was really just the redhead staring Zora down like she'd crack under pressure, eventually. Hawkeye invited her for an 'extended stay' at his family's homestead located gods know where. Banner, the least infuriating of all of them, just exchanged understanding looks with her whenever their paths crossed.

He lived with the Other Guy on a daily basis – he knew that it took more than one week with Loki's madness to push her over the edge. But he was the only one who knew.

Thor had left them, almost six months ago, with grim farewells. Zora had clutched onto him like he was never coming back. He had hugged her back fiercely, and she often wondered if it could be true – if he would never return. She worked nightly on carving him a new version of the miniature mjiournir in case he did, since she noticed his must've gotten lost at some point during the Battle of New York.

Loki crossed her mind every day. It would be false to say he didn't. To pretend the short amount of time she had been held as his captive hadn't changed her, in some way. Didn't often make her wonder: what would the world look like, if the Avengers hadn't overthrown him?

Would she have been alive to know?

When those thoughts started twisting down dark roads she didn't want to revisit, she threw herself into work more, taking on twelve-hour shifts, doubles. Anything. Her mind wanted to be as exhausted as her body.

She didn't want to have to wonder at what the mad god knew. About what sort of Fate she'd gotten twisted up in. About what the future held in store for her.

But it was coming. That much she knew. There was only so much running Zora could do, and she knew she was nearing the end. She could _feel_ it.

Until then, she was content to rise with the sun every day and get to work, and avoid being at the Tower at all costs.

000

Thor maintained a level stare with the Allfather, his head canted slightly to meet the king's one-eyed gaze from his place on the throne room's golden dais. Working his jaw in annoyance, Thor couldn't help but think about how much better suited Loki's silver-tongue would have been for this task of diplomacy.

"Father," Thor tried again, his strained patience wearing into his tone. "You _must_ understand – the Midgardians need the assistance, and it is surely assistance we can provide at a low cost to ourselves. A mere thousand troops would be sufficient – and the least we could do to contribute to their reconstruction efforts." _Given that it was Loki, an Asgardian, who made such efforts necessary_ , he thought darkly to himself, but the words would never leave his lips. Never. Loki had not been himself, and Thor held on fiercely to that belief.

Odin wore the same expression he often defaulted to when dealing with a particularly difficult delegation from another realm. "I have denied this request for various reasons, Thor. I expect that, as future king of Asgard, you will come to understand these reasons."

"As future king of Asgard," Thor said vehemently, voice raising despite his efforts to remain cool-headed and rational, "I would like to make amends with realms we have, advertently or not, nearly destroyed! I should think you, Odin Allfather, would understand this! Midgard suffered at _our_ hands, Father. We owe them recompense for the lives they lost, the cities decimated."

Odin abruptly rose to his full height, staring down imposingly at his son with an angry frown marring his lips. "Midgard suffered at _Loki's_ hands!" The king's voice bellowed through the throne room, forcing the guards to straighten their spines and stare harder at whatever wall they were facing, fear etched across their faces. "Your inability to see your brother for what he is – a _war criminal_ – is blinding your rationality!"

Thor gritted his teeth together. "I was branded a war criminal, Father, or do you have such a selective memory? You banished me to Midgard, powerless. Stripped of my honors, my titles. I attempted to make war with the Jotuns – I risked plunging Asgard into another thousand-year war with those we had made peace with! – and yet my only punishment was banishment until I could prove myself worthy. Where is Loki's chance to repent? Where is his second chance, Father?"

Odin's mouth folded into a thin, white line. "You were requesting troops to aid Midgard's reconstruction," he said stiffly, one hand clenching tight to the staff beside him. "Would you rather debate your brother's actions – and consequences – yet again?"

"I would rather you _listen!"_ Thor thundered, his anger rising up like a dark wave he couldn't contain. Hands clenching into fists at his sides, he sucked in a short breath, eyes never leaving the king's. "You refuse to listen to reason. You refuse to listen to anything that is not a condemnation of your second son. I grow weary of this, Father. If being king of the Realm Eternal means shunning reason, then perhaps I am not fit to be king at all."

And with that, Thor turned and walked away from the Allfather without a proper dismissal, the anger and confusion and sadness that had built up within him over the last six moons threatening to spill over and thicken the tension that already existed between Asgard's crown prince and its king.

000

There had been a time in Loki's childhood when, in playing a game of hide and seek with Thor and Sif, Loki had thought himself crafty enough to win by merely going to the single place no child of Asgard ever dared go: the dungeons. And, being of a superior sort of intelligence, Loki had managed to win through mere cunning alone. He'd spent all night wandering the dungeons, peering curiously at this criminal and that warlord, before Thor had finally given up searching for his raven-haired brother and brought news of his absence to the queen, who in turn informed all of Asgard's guards to find the young prince immediately.

He recalled vividly how Frigga herself had marched down into the dungeons to collect the baby-faced Loki, her eyes wide and fearful, her mouth pulled into sharp and angry lines, as she dragged him out by his ear and lectured him for hours on the dangerous company he had been keeping with.

The memory occasionally brought a smirk to his lips, however self-loathing it was.

Now Loki was the dangerous company the other prisoners feared.

Lounging back in the chaise they'd dragged from his chambers, arms tucked behind his head, he stared amusedly at his gloomy visitor, thinking of how drastically things had changed since their childhood.

"Father is impervious to my efforts," Thor ranted, pacing back and forth in front of Loki's cell with sharp, gaunt movements. "He sees no _reason_."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Perhaps it is _you_ who sees no reason. You visit the cell of a man who is _not your brother_ on a near-daily basis," the God of Mischief said off-handedly, though the words bothered him more than he cared to admit.

How Thor could still pretend they were kin despite knowing Loki's true heritage was beyond the trickster. How Thor could even stand to look at him after the havoc he'd wreaked on Midgard was even more baffling.

The thunder god paused his heavy strides, frowning hard at Loki, the way he used to frown at their tutors as children when a concept had breezed far over his head. "Blood or not, Loki, you are my brother," Thor asserted, his tone sharp enough to arch Loki's brow. "Nothing can change that."

"Nothing?" It was another reiteration of an argument they'd been having for half a year, now, but Loki was content to start it up all over again. He had an eternity to rot in this cell after all. "Not my attempted subjugation of your precious Midgard? Not my foiled plot to destroy the Jotun race?" And always the kicker, the one thing that would get Thor to really _think_ about how his supposed brother was no longer the boy he had once played hide and seek with: "And if I had succeeded in executing your dear mortal?" _Zora_ , he thought to himself, the trinket he had managed to hold onto by cloaking magic alone still crooning softly to him in his pocket, the only melodic sound in the otherwise dour dungeons. The only thing keeping him partially-sane these past six moons. "Would that have made you realize I am not your brother, Thor?"

The thunder god's massive fist connected with the magical barrier of Loki's cell, a snarl on the blonde's lips. "I have said it before and I will say it again!" Thor boomed, glaring at the raven-haired god. " _You were not yourself,_ Loki. You think me too thoughtless to notice, and I accept this – you have always been the cleverer of the two of us – but your fall through the Void still had its hold over you. This I _know_."

Loki rolled his eyes. "That's not an answer," he pointed out.

Thor's snarl was no less intense. "You would not have killed her," he maintained, the certainty in his tone prompting a flurry of thoughts Loki had had on more than one occasion: Did Thor know what the non-mortal was?

Why the trinket in Loki's pocket, a bearer of her magical fingerprint, sang to him so softly, despite being so far away from its source?

"And why not?" Loki asked imperiously. "There was nothing to stop me, until your oafish Avengers showed up. Had they not, she would be dead and you would still be rotting in the dungeons of that tower. Her survival was mere _luck_."

Thor had never been one to keep secrets – that was always Loki's penchant – but the trickster could read, clear as day in his non-brother's crystal blue eyes, that the future king of Asgard was holding something back.

You could not lie to the God of Lies, after all.

"You are my brother," was all Thor gritted out between clenched teeth before spinning on his heel, crimson cape flapping harshly behind him, and marching out of the Realm Eternal's dungeons.

000

Berlin looked nothing like the beautiful city Zora had once visited as an undergrad. The once colorful city had been reduced nearly to ash by Loki's army, ravaged and devastated by an alien force no one could hope to fight off.

She remembered the day clearly. How the German Chancellor had refused to bow down to the self-proclaimed king of Midgard. How calm the Chancellor had been when Loki winked into existence right in front of her. How the cameras had kept rolling, despite the blood staining the ground and the Chitauri aircrafts blackening the sky.

Blinking, Zora forced herself back to the present, staring through the brand-new window of a quickly-constructed base that housed international aid groups working to rebuild the former powerhouse of Europe. She could still taste smoke in the air, like the night she had spoken with the fallen prince on the balcony of the Avenger's Tower, overlooking a razed New York City.

"Agent Haque," a voice from behind her beckoned her attention.

Zora was grateful for the distraction. For anything to pull her gaze from the charred ruins of the German capital, another reminder of how bleak the world had been only six and a half months ago.

"Yes?" She faced one of the security guards deployed to the base, wondering if he was going to inform her of another impromptu visit from Nat or Clint or Tony again.

"There's a Doctor Foster here for you," he said instead.

Zora's brows nearly skyrocketed to her hairline. Jane?

"Lead the way."

000

The genius astrophysicist and her quirky intern were waiting for Zora in the Canteen, twiddling their thumbs and looking anywhere but out the glass windows that reminded everyone of the destruction that sat outside their new temporary home.

"Jane?" Zora asked tentatively, looking from the scientist to the intern questioningly, concern coloring her voice. "Darcy? Is everything okay?"

As soon as Zora spoke, Jane's bright brown eyes shot up, looking to the young agent like they hadn't seen one another in years. "Zora!" She stood, stiff and awkward as she had always been, clearly uncertain whether to shake hands with the agent or pull her into a hug, hovering near her table instead. "We heard you flew into Berlin – we weren't sure if you were still here."

Zora was just as uncertain how to go about greeting the pair, and so maintained a reasonable distance from them and smiled kindly in return. "Yeah – I'll be stationed here for the next month. There's been some trouble in digging up bodies…" Zora's green-eyed gaze glanced briefly out the window, a frown touching her lips, before she hastily continued, "so I figured I'd try to help as best I can."

Darcy grimaced. "Yeah. Alien-boy really fucked this place up, huh?"

Zora wasn't sure what to be more taken-aback by – Darcy calling Loki _Alien-boy_ or Darcy's almost irreverent tone regarding Germany's complete decimation.

 _Alien-boy_ almost made the young agent laugh.

"Um, yeah," Zora said, exchanging looks with a put-out looking Jane, who whispered to Darcy, "You need to stop calling him that to other people."

Darcy, in turn, rolled her eyes. "Well that's what he _is_ , isn't it?"

Jane decidedly ignored her opinionated intern. "You'll be here for a month?"

Zora couldn't exactly say _why_ she felt this way, but she sensed Jane didn't really care if Zora would be in Berlin for a month or for the rest of eternity. "Yep, four weeks. Was there something else you wanted, Jane?"

Finally, the astrophysicist heaved a sigh and looked at Zora plainly. "Yeah, actually. I – well, I haven't seen Thor since he left. He stopped by briefly when I was in Norway to tell me he'd be taking Loki back to Asgard, but since then…"

"He's been off the radar," Zora filled in, nodding in agreement.

Jane frowned. "Yeah, exactly. So I guess I was just wondering… has he visited you? At all?"

Zora was floored by the question – and even more by the accusation in the scientist's tone. "Me?"

Darcy looked Zora up and down as if she'd suddenly dropped 100 IQ points. "Duh. Cuz you know he's always so," she waved her hands about vaguely, "chatty about you."

Zora's expression scrunched into one of confusion. "What?"

Jane and Darcy exchanged equally stupefied looks.

"I don't think she knows, boss," Darcy finally said to Jane, who nodded her head slowly.

Zora looked between the two of them with a frown. "O-kay… Why don't we take this up to my quarters? You," she pointed at the pair, "can explain what's going on to me over a couple glasses of whiskey. Since it sounds like I'll be needing it."

000

"Thor and I are _not_ a thing!" Zora shouted, tossing her hands in the air as if the simple motion itself could convince Jane and her attack-dog Darcy that nothing had ever, ever occurred between Zora and the God of Thunder. "Not now, not ever! So _no_ , he hasn't visited me. No one's heard anything from him in months!"

Jane watched Zora carefully over the brim of the tumbler she was taking a hefty sip of while Darcy merely folded her arms over her chest.

"If you think she's lying, boss-lady," Darcy said without taking her eyes off of Zora, "I can always taze her."

Zora raised a brow at the intern. "For your sake, I'll pretend you didn't say that."

Darcy, however, didn't back down, but pushed her glasses further up her nose and canted her chin up. "Just 'cause you fought with the Avengers in New York doesn't make you some big league hero, as evidenced by your current duties," the young woman pointed out sharply, gesturing around Zora's cramped quarters.

The SHIELD agent opened her mouth to respond, but was interceded by Jane, who huffed at Darcy, "Seriously, Darce, now's not the time or place to pick a fight."

"An _unnecessary_ fight," Zora emphasized. Throwing back the rest of her whiskey, she set her tumbler down on the small table sitting between her bed and the two other chairs in the room, giving Jane a pointed look. "Look, I get why you'd be suspicious of me, if he really says all that – but I swear to you, Jane, there's nothing to worry about. Not from me. Thor… he's a friend. A good friend."

The astrophysicist turned a bright shade of red, eyes darting down to her hands as she stuttered out an apology. "I guess I just haven't heard him talk about anyone else like that. I _am_ sorry, Agent Haque – I shouldn't've taken my insecurities out on you. I just thought… calling someone something like that, their lucky War-Breaker – it's strange, isn't it?"

Zora shrugged. "That's what I thought, too, but no one at the Tower really ever batted an eye. He said it was just some children's story. I _really_ don't think he meant anything by it, Jane."

Contrite, Jane gave the SHIELD agent a careful smile. "I'm sorry, Zora. Really."

Thankful that the conversation was no longer going down _that_ path, Zora waved off her apology. "It's fine. Really. _Now_ , if you're not going to blast me with 50,000 volts of electricity, maybe we can actually have some fun in this gloomy place. Y'know Ryan, the security guard at Gate B, has a whole stash of vodka in his quarters, right?"

000

After stumbling back into her quarters late into the night and flopping down on her tiny, threadbare bed, Zora glared up at the ceiling, willing herself to sleep if only so she didn't have to think about _him_.

Loki.

The mad god who had imprisoned her.

The alien who had tried to take over her entire world.

The lunatic who was going to execute her right in front of Tony's beloved bar.

 _Why_ he was on her mind, yet again, was beyond reason. She'd dragged Jane and Darcy over to Ryan's quarters like they were a trio of girls in college sneaking out for a drink and laughed more than she had in months. Darcy had _quite_ the mouth on her, which was really no surprise, and when Jane got really riled up, she started speaking in some gibberish math-language that no one else had been able to follow along with, which was amusing in itself.

It had been a good night. A good night after so many terrible ones.

So why did _he_ have to haunt her thoughts?

Zora worried it would never go away – the flashback of him ordering her execution, of the relief etched onto his face when Tony and the others had overtaken the Chitauri guards and saved her life.

The relief. It didn't make any sense.

It was driving her crazy.

When she finally fell asleep, she was haunted by piercingly blue eyes, invaded by a touch of green.

000

Thor had never been called to the War-Room before. Asgard had thankfully been at peace with most of the other realms since his maturation, and besides, he had spent more time on the battlefield than in the very room that mapped out the battlefield. It was widely known that Thor was first and foremost a warrior, wielder of mjiournir, master of the skies, breaker of all that could possibly be broken.

The War-Room, Thor had always thought, was better suited for Loki's cunning, calculated mind, his tricks and machinations, his cold and quiet intelligence.

So Thor couldn't help but feel out of place in his gleaming armor when he stepped into the massive chamber, drawing all eyes onto his bulky form. A long table built of the sturdiest wood in the realm sat in the middle of the space, with Odin Allfather at the head of it and various generals and other ministers filling the seats all around. A single chair remained empty at Odin's right side, which Thor immediately began marching to, for once uncomfortable under the weight of so many stares.

"The servant said it was urgent, Father," Thor said as soon as he took his seat, though the words felt useless on his tongue. Were he the raven-haired prince, he would've felt at place next to all of Asgard's most strategic minds. He would've understood, already, what was going on and why he was summoned.

Something was clearly wrong, but whatever it was, he could not extrapolate it from the mere dour atmosphere of the room alone.

"Indeed," the Allfather said, nodding curtly at the crown prince. "Now that you are here, Thor, we may begin." Standing, the Allfather clasped his hands behind his back, his one-eyed stare no less intense as it gauged its anxious audience. "I've gathered all of you here in order to discuss a grave matter. One that was brought to my attention by a messenger from Vanaheim early this morn."

 _Vanaheim_. Thor frowned up at the Allfather, his mind running from one possible situation to the next that could feasibly lead to him and all of Asgard's top generals being called into the War-Room so abruptly. If the Vanir had sent a message… that meant that the Seer had sensed something grim on the horizon. Something worth troublingthe Aesir with.

"Jotunheim?" A golden-armored general asked, one Thor immediately recognized as Tyr, a one-time mentor of his during his developing years; now, the top tiered general was nearly as gray as Odin, but sat with firm shoulders and a certain jaw, battle-sure and ready.

The single-worded question was enough to spark murmurs through the room and fear in Thor's chest. Could it really be Jotunheim? Seeking blood for Loki's past wrongdoings, now that word had surely traveled through the realms that the fallen prince was alive and in Asgardian custody?

"No." Odin said tersely, effectively cutting off the fearful buzz of the room and releasing the heavy weight in Thor's heart. But as soon as Thor managed to feel some form of relief, the Allfather carried on. "The Seer… she has warned about Hela, rising from her pit." The Allfather said the words carefully, as if measuring their very weight as they settled in the chamber, over the now-silent audience he held. His one eye drifted from minister to general before finally landing on Thor. "Do you understand the significance of this, my son?"

Thor swallowed thickly through the cotton-like dryness in his throat. He had never heard the Allfather sound so… uncertain.

"Yes," Thor answered in as level a tone as he could. He looked sideways down the table, reading the stern expressions on every single member of the War Cabinet to be a reflection of his own expression. "It means it's come… Ragnarok."

000

Loki was closely studying the SHIELD agent's trinket when he felt it. A strange hue of magic, stronger than whatever made the miniature of mjiournir sing, harsh and dark and _deep_. In the span of a second, he had gone from slowly picking at the trinket's magical fingerprint, edging this way and that around it to try to peek at its source, when he sensed some sort of shadow fall over him, the way one can sense a catastrophe before it strikes, some strange thing slowly flooding his perceptions the way ink would slowly bleed onto fresh parchment.

He was up and out of his lounge before he could even realize he was moving, his muscles coiled tight, his hands ached to conjure more magic than his magic-subduing cell allowed. There was a taste to the air that hadn't been present just a moment before. Something bitter. Tangy, like blood.

Closing his eyes, he breathed in the scent, taking it into his lungs, absorbing what he could to make sense of it. Fear clutched at him – Thanos had surely found him, had come to collect a debt that Loki owed – but no. This magic was darker than Thanos'.

Instead of rotting flowers, it reeked of… smoke. Fire. A fire he'd seen only once before.

Panic shot through the usually cool-headed god. "Guard!" he suddenly called out, his feet taking him to the edge of his cell, where he could peer from one end of the dark halls to the next.

The corridor, which was typically dotted with guards every other pillar, was eerily empty.

" _Guards!"_ he shouted, his voice resounding only within the confines on his cell.

A darkness Asgard had never seen was fast approaching, a darkness Loki had only borne witness to once before in his lifetime, and there was no one to warn.

000

Since the Allfather had taken his seat, the War-Room had fallen into a disarray of voices, some shouting over one another, others talking amongst themselves, but all voicing various opinions and expertise in fearful, cautious language that made Thor want to bang his head against the table. Glancing sidelong, he watched his father observe the chaos in stride, as if the Allfather had expected this precise reaction.

It made Thor feel weak. Stupid. Though he had heard the tales of Ragnarok and knew of the precipitous events that needed to take place for it to occur… he had never once truly entertained the possibility of Ragnarok _occurring_. Not ever. Not to Asgard.

The dusk of the gods had never been rooted anywhere in Thor's reality, and it felt like the reality he had made for himself – one of immortality, of endless adventures and wars – was crumbling around him.

He saw, in his father's gaze, the terrible weight of having to be king. And he realized, in that moment, that he may never become king at all. Not if Ragnarok had come, the end times neared.

Of course, everyone in the room had one name on their lips, and it was not Hela's, the she-devil, the corpse of a creature banished to Hel eons ago by the Aesir, the victors. The name was Loki, the realm's second prince, the fallen god, the wicked one. Thor heard his brother called every name imaginable in those brief few minutes, silvertongue and liesmith, trickster and evil-doer. He flinched at every harsh grumble, every jab at the raven-haired prince who couldn't be present to defend himself.

"That's enough!" Thor boomed, standing to his full height, pulling every pair of eyes onto himself. A thick silence descended in the room, deeper still than when Odin had called the generals and ministers to order. Even the Allfather cast a curious gaze on Thor, his chin canted up, giving his first son his full attention.

"That is enough," Thor repeated, his tone quieter but no less heated. He met the gazes of those he had been fearful to face minutes ago. "You all speak ill of my brother, your _prince_ , yet you seem to forget. Loki has been imprisoned for the last six moons. If Ragnarok has come, he was no harbinger."

There was a moment of hesitance, steeped in the sort of nervousness many of the councilmen and women felt when addressing a particularly irate Odin, before Tyr spoke up.

"This may be true, your highness, but the legends are very clear. Loki sets Asgard on her path to damnation, and Hel rises from the roots of the worldtree to bury the other realms along with it." His voice was careful, reasonable, but Thor could not stand it.

"The legends are merely that," Thor insisted. "Legends. We must consult the elders in Vanaheim, the Seer. There are steps that must be taken before we thrust the blame on one who has not seen daylight in so long."

Thor's blue-eyed gaze dared the others in the room to challenge him, his jaw ticked in annoyance. Beside him, Odin also rose. "Thor is right," his father agreed coolly, taking the thunder god by surprise. "But Tyr is also correct, son. Loki was always predicted to be the catalyst to the end days… We must not overlook that. In the meantime, I've sent a delegation to Vanaheim to escort the Seer and her maidens here."

Whispers and conversations broke out yet again, but Thor hardly noticed. Instead, his eyes shot to the Allfather, who had suddenly slumped forward, his frail hands falling hard against the wooden table. "What in the Nine…?" the Allfather murmured, his eye going wide, his brow furrowed. Thor made to assist the Allfather but stopped dead in his tracks when he heard his father say, "A bomb."

Just as Thor had not come to terms with the concept of Ragnarok so quickly, he too did not register his father's words until it was too late. A great heat suddenly built up in the War Room as if from nothing but mere air, a smoke filling the room that tasted foul and deadly. And in a single, cataclysmic flash of light, a bomb exploded, like the birth of a new star, throwing all of Asgard's top generals and ministers, its king and its crown prince, through walls eaten up by fire.

000

The first thing Thor registered when his mind swam up from the deep tresses of unconsciousness was pain. Pain unlike any he had endured before, unlike any he thought possible for an Aesir to feel. A searing, burning pain eating away at his abdomen.

Blinking blue eyes open, Thor sucked in a breath of ashy air and observed the chaos around him. The War Room was no more – merely a burning ground, now, the walls eaten away by fire, smoke billowing out into Asgard's pure air through the half-missing wall that once stood between the long desk and the outside world.

His ears soon registered the moans of the injured, the dying. He realized that the Allfather could be in a critical state. The searing pain in his side be damned, Thor forced himself to stand, gripping at his half-melted armor to fight against the throbbing, and sought out the realm's king with frantic eyes.

Less than a minute passed before he came across the Allfather's body, crumpled on the floor many feet away from where he had only just stood, at the head of the table. Blood soaked his white robes, seeped into his hair and his beard. So much blood that Thor at once thought he must be dead, and fell to his knees in devastation, hands wrapping around his father's wrists like a child grabbing at something that was no longer there.

But as soon as he touched the Allfather, the king moaned in pain. Panic jolted through the crown prince. "A healer!" he shouted into the chaos. "We need a healer! The king is wounded!"

Everything else rushed into a single blur. Watching the healers rush towards him, take the king away for treatment. The weight of his mother crashing against him in a tight, near-bone crushing hug, her tears silent but wet against his cheek. The sobs of those whose loved ones had died in the explosion, the questions of those who had not borne witness.

And finally, after enduring a treatment of his own that dulled the deep throbbing on his abdomen to a bearable ache, Thor found himself standing before a pacing, mad-looking Loki.

As soon as the raven-haired prince saw Thor, he approached the boundary of his cell, a wild look in his eye, his long hair askew in all manners as if he'd been tugging at it nonstop. "What has happened? The guards won't tell me, but I felt it…"

"A bomb," Thor managed to say. "In the War Room."

Loki's mind, always so quick to calculate, seemed to know exactly what questions to ask. He paused, tried to read Thor momentarily, before asking, "What of the Allfather?"

"Alive, but in poor condition. The healers believe he will fall into the Odinsleep any moment." Thor forced himself to swallow down his fear, his anxiety. "They fear he may not rise from it."

"And the culprit?"

Thor couldn't meet his brother's gaze, so ashamed was he to have no answer. "We do not yet know."

"I do," Loki said quickly, forcing Thor's gaze back up. "It is Hela. Risen from her pit."

Thor's heavy brow did not furrow in surprise like Loki had expected. Instead, the god's frown deepened. "That is what the Seer from Vanaheim warned father about earlier in the morn," he informed Loki gravely. "But her visions… normally there is time, Loki. And yet Hela has attacked straight away."

Loki considered this matter for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin white line. He suddenly looked up at Thor sharply, a spark in his eyes. "The Seer – she came to speak to the Allfather personally?"

Now Thor's brow did furrow. "No, she sent a raven. Father said so in the War Room, right before…" Before the bomb went off. Before everything changed. Thor's shoulders drooped, like the weight of the cosmos was pressing down upon him even harder. He worked his jaw and stared at his brother intently. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you are correct," Loki said, surprisingly the both of them at his willingness to concede that Thor was right about anything. "The Seer's visions have always come in time for preparations. That is why she is so revered through the realms, far more esteemed than the others who have premonitions. Why should that be any different now?"

"What are you proposing?"

Now Loki was looking at Thor in his typical condescending way: as if Thor were some insect who could never properly understand the intricacies of the realms. "Think about it. When was the last time the Seer held audience? When was she last seen?"

Thor's belly fluttered with anxiety. "When she last prophesized about the War-Breaker to mother and father." He felt a panic, but he couldn't ascertain what for. Something seemed gravely wrong.

"Yes," Loki said, a bit impatiently. "And that was five-hundred years ago."

Thor had never really felt sick a day in his life; not until Loki had bound him on Midgard with the rune-enchanted chains. The feeling growing throughout his body felt too similar to that. "You're implying that the Seer might not have sent the raven."

"And may in fact be dead," Loki continued. "Who are we to know? Not Seers ourselves."

"But that means…"

The brothers shared a fearful look. "That means," Loki said quietly, enunciating his words sharply, as he always did when matters grew serious, "that Hela may have been planning her attack far longer than we may think. She's prepared."

"For war." The words fell softly from Thor's lips, because what Loki was saying made sense. The pieces were falling together. Vanaheim's revered Seer did not have visitors unless her visions were so important that they called for an audience. She would never have sent a raven – she would have come to Asgard herself or summoned the Allfather to Vanaheim.

So if it was true… If Hela was already prepared to make war with Asgard, as all the prophecies said…

One face flashed into Thor's mind. The face of the only person who could possibly defeat Hela and her undead army. The War-Breaker.

"There is somewhere I must go," he murmured, already turned away from Loki and marching down the dungeon's halls. He only half heard his brother call after him frantically as he marched on. His mind was already focused on how he could possibly convince Zora Haque that she was not quite as human as she thought.

000

Dust swirled through the broken streets of Berlin like a vengeful tornado, whipping the cheeks of volunteers who were scavenging the ruins for months' old bodies that might otherwise never be recovered. Zora squinted hard against the biting wind, the debris that threatened to fly into her eyes should she remove her safety goggles. She coughed into the crook of her elbow and pushed on, wandering Sector Five – the last Sector that needed to be cleared out. A month had passed quickly in this foreign, demolished city, the daily monotonous tasks making the four weeks blur together. She already had orders for the next city she would visit: Johannesburg.

Except for the shrieking of the wind, the work was silent and eerie. The sun had just passed its apex in the sky and Zora had already uncovered twenty-seven bodies from the rubble, which were now on their way to the identification tents set up outside the compound. She was searching for body twenty-eight when a prism of light, the most beautiful rainbow of colors she had ever laid eyes on, shot down towards the ruined sidewalk next to her, the swirl of colors so tantalizing and shimmery that she felt almost nauseous.

She brought one of her arms up to shield her eyes from the play of light; her free hand immediately went for the dagger she always kept strapped to her combat vest, which she never left the compound without. The dagger was unsheathed with a sharp tingy sound, and the young warrior squared her shoulders for a battle.

When the light faded, Zora found herself face-to-face with Thor of Asgard. Thor, who she had not seen for six months, who had been so close to death in the Avenger's Tower when Loki had held the pair of them captive.

Now, the Asgardian looked like the picture of health: his bright blue eyes rivaled the blue that had danced in the rainbow bridge, focused so intently on Zora that she felt almost uncomfortable. As if it was his brother, Loki, staring at her rather than him.

Swallowing thickly, shoving the thought aside, Zora sheathed her weapon again and clamped her mouth shut once she realized it had fallen open in shock.

"Lady Haque," the Asgardian greeted her somberly.

Zora wanted to run to him, to throw her arms around him and hug him close because she had missed him so much, but she understood by his unusual demeanor that something was horribly off. Thor had not even looked this grave when he had been held under Loki's rule.

Thoughts swarmed through her mind. "Thor?" She stepped towards him, then stopped short, cocking her head to the side. If something was really wrong, wouldn't he go to the Avengers with the issue? Why was he here?

He seemed to read the confusion on her face. Mjiournir looked heavy in his hand as he glanced down at the rubble and sighed. "We must speak, Lady Haque. It is time I share your destiny with you."

"Fuck," was the only thing capable of coming out of her mouth.

It seemed that Fate had finally caught up to her.

000

"No," Zora said adamantly, fiercely, shaking her head side-to-side as if to emphasize her point. "No no _no_. I'm human, Thor. I'm really, reeeally human. My mom and dad are from Michigan. I was raised in Michigan. In a suburb. I was a barista, once. I'm the most human human that exists."

"You are not," Thor said firmly, his patience quickly heading towards its end. "I swear to you, Lady Haque – I would not lie about this."

"You've been misled," she asserted. But in her mind, she somehow knew that what Thor had just told her must be true. As much as she wanted to fight it, as much as she wanted to come up with every reason in the book why Thor couldn't be right – she could _not_ be the War-Breaker, the creature from legends that his mother had told him of as a child – part of her knew it was right.

 _You're connected to things, Zora. Things you don't understand yet._

Had her mother known, all this time?

Was her mother even her real mother?

The questions assaulted her from all sides. The world she thought she knew flipped on its axis. Only Thor's voice, steady yet somber, fearful, drew her from her chaotic mind. "You must come with me," he insisted. "I'm truly sorry that there isn't more time to process this, Lady Haque – I should have told you long ago. But Asgard is in trouble and your destiny is calling to you."

 _Your destiny. Fate. You're connected to things, Zora._ Her mind spun and spun and spun.

"Jane is here," Zora suddenly stuttered out, because she could not process. She needed a moment. Just a moment. "She's here and you need to see her."

That seemed to blindside the thunder god. For a moment, Zora felt pity for the astrophysicist. But Thor hadn't forgotten about the scientist – his realm was in grave danger. On the brink of complete damnation.

"Where?" Thor asked, suddenly urgent, his fear bleeding out into his tone. "Where is she?"

000

Zora watched Thor and Jane reunite from afar, feeling numb to the whole ordeal, to Jane's obvious happiness, Thor's clear distress, the couple's passionate embrace. Zora was numb. Her mind was processing so much information at once, performing its own sort of triage, trying to determine what was best to understand now and which questions would have to wait for a later point in time.

Her hands were shaking. She curled them into fists and pressed them into her sides. She clenched her teeth and tried to focus on one thought: Thor's realm was in peril. He said he needed her, and he had already fought for Midgard. He had already shed blood for them. He had said it himself before: he was like her shield-brother. She needed to do this for him. To keep her mind from splitting in all the directions it wanted to go in right now and focus on the issue at hand.

The she-demon named Hela.

Leaving the cafeteria behind, Zora silently made her way up to her room to pack what few items she owned in this world. If she was going to Asgard, she wanted to be ready.

000

By the time she returned to the reunited couple, backpack in hand, Zora could see clearly in Thor's guilty eyes what he wanted to do. His hand was curled gently around Jane's, and he stared at Zora almost imploringly, seemingly expecting her resistance.

"No," Zora stated authoritatively. "She can't come, Thor. You said it yourself – your realm is at risk. Would you put Jane at risk, too?"

"All the nine realms are at risk," Thor reasoned. "Jane is no safer on Midgard than she would be on Asgard. However, she is safe with me. It is better this way, Zora."

"It isn't," Zora frowned. "She's no warrior – we can't put her in harm's way like that."

Jane glared at Zora. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here," she bit out, her tone surprisingly caustic. "And I might not be a warrior, but I can help."

Zora wasn't sure who the scientist was trying to convince more – herself or Thor. But determination was written plainly on the couple's faces. This was a battle she would not win. "Fine," Zora relented. "But we should go before I decide this is all a crazy fucking idea, okay?"

000

Zora could not bring herself to drink in the sight of Asgard in all of its glory. For one, she was still half locked inside her own mind, compartmentalizing as best she could manage. For another, a billow of smoke, the blackest smoke she'd ever seen, swirled up and up from what she guessed was the Asgardian palace. The smoke itself cemented her new reality: Hela was real. Hela had bombed that very section of the palace just earlier this day. The Allfather had fallen into a deep Odinsleep and Thor was currently acting king.

She followed behind Thor and Jane, half listening as Thor managed enough enthusiasm to point out this or that monument to his lover as they walked up a golden, cobbled street. She only vaguely noticed when they had reached the palace steps, her legs straining to ascend them, her body already thoroughly exhausted from her time in Berlin. Thor apologized to Jane and Zora for a lack of a greeting party – the queen was with the Allfather, he explained, and the Warriors Three and Sif were out collecting intelligence.

She followed his broad shoulders as he offered to lead her to a guest room for the night, having read on her face that she wished to have some time alone to process, to rest, to prepare.

He left her at the door leading to her rooms with a parting, sad smile. "I hope you will forgive me in time," he murmured to her, and Zora suddenly realized that the guilty expression he'd been wearing had not been because he wanted Jane to accompany them, but because he had shaken Zora's world to its core with his revelation. Because he felt guilty for not telling her sooner. "A guard will be posted outside your door. You will have some time to rest, Lady Haque, but a meeting will be called soon. We must be prepared."

The look of hurt that flashed across his face when she merely nodded at him did not go unobserved. But Zora was still feeling so numb.

She entered the rooms he'd provided her with. The walls were towering and golden gilded, painted a luscious blue. The furniture that dotted the room was lavish. But it was the bed that drew her gaze. It was a massive four-poster thing, bigger, even, than a king size back on earth. She allowed herself to shuffle towards it and fall face first onto the silky soft comforter.

Then, she screamed loudly in frustration and let the tears she hadn't even realized she was fending off come to her eyes. She screamed and screamed, clutching a pillow to her chest, as her world unraveled and rewove itself before her eyes.

000

After she'd made her voice hoarse with screaming and her eyes red with crying, an eerie sense of calm settled over Zora. The calm before the storm or after, she couldn't really be sure, but she knew it wouldn't last. Not forever, anyway.

The exhaustion that had been eating away at her earlier dissolved, leaving her restless. She wanted to move. To escape these four walls that were so foreign to her, to exhaust her legs once more so perhaps at some point this evening she could release herself to sleep.

So she rubbed at the salt on her face, stepped out the door, and told her guard that she would return at a later point. He opened his mouth to object to her, but Zora shut him down with just a look. She wondered, absently, if the guard knew who she was. The War-Breaker.

Zora's idle legs led her through massive dining halls, gardens, libraries, and kitchens; through the streets of the common people, to the edge of the rainbow bridge, to a cliff overlooking the massive golden city. She wandered and wandered, hoping to lose herself in the lives of the porcelain-looking Aesir, looking for some shred of herself in their godlike features, but again and again came up empty.

At last, her wandering feet led her to the dungeons.

She wasn't sure if he was alive or dead, but on the off chance that he was living, she knew she would find him here. And she did.

His cell was set apart from the others; whether this was because he was afforded such a luxury based on his status as a prince of the realm or because he was a trouble-maker when he had an audience, she couldn't be sure. Also unlike the other cells, his was furnished with the same lavish furniture that adorned Zora's rooms.

Instead of approaching right away, Zora stood off in the tresses of a shadow and watched him. He was pacing, looking mad as ever as he tugged at his hair every so often and murmured to himself, walking this way in his cell, coming to the edge, and then turning about to walk the other. His movements were graceful – they always had been, hadn't they? Princely. It was something Zora wanted to hate about him, but found intoxicating instead. She couldn't stop watching him; pace one way, then another, then back again.

Zora wasn't quite sure if she would have preferred him dead. Any sane person would have, she was sure. Maybe she wasn't quite sane.

Finally, after some time, Loki stopped dead in his tracks, head cocked to the side, as if listening to some call only he could hear. Zora strained to listen but could make out no sound other than of her own breath.

When he turned his cutting green eyes on her, Zora's lips parted in surprise.

His face mimicked hers momentarily – the god of mischief and lies was just as caught off guard as she was – before his expression closed off again.

"You," he said, his voice as rich and elegant as ever, an accusation, a challenge. Zora focused on it. Allowed herself to be more absorbed in all his strange intonations than the chaos in her head. "How are you here?"

Zora stepped forward – one foot, the other – until she was standing in front of him. A shimmery gold barrier separated the pair. Zora did not feel much safer because of it. She reached up, made to place her palm against the barrier, but Loki's sharp tone stopped her.

"Don't," he snapped, seemingly angry. "It's enchanted to cause immense pain for any unauthorized person who dares touch it, no matter on what side you stand."

Zora met his green gaze again. Something about that seemed off to her. She stared at him in silence, trying to figure out why he didn't seem quite the same as he had before.

"Your eyes," she said suddenly. "They're different."

Loki shifted on his feet. He wasn't dressed in battle gear, as she was accustomed to seeing him in. Instead, he wore a deep green tunic and black trousers that were tucked into soft-looking black leather boots. He seemed smaller for it, less like the god that had tried to take over her world and more like a person.

"How are you here?" he asked again.

"Thor came for me," she replied simply, shoulders lifting in a meager shrug. "He said I was needed here." _That I'm the War-Breaker. The only one who can stop Hela_.

His sharp green gaze suddenly looked like a jagged cut emerald; they studied her slowly, covering her from head to toe, before meeting her eyes once more. He seemed to have realized something imperative, something that made him look at her with a tiny furrow between his eyebrows.

Something between a grimace and a smile broke out on his lips. "It's you, then." If she wasn't mistaken, reverence swam just beneath his questioning tone. "It's you the Seer spoke of."

Thor hadn't told him? Zora's head tilted slightly as she considered this. If Thor hadn't mentioned this to Loki, was it a bad idea for her to? "I'm not sure- "

"Don't lie," he cut her off smoothly. "Not to the God of Lies, darling."

The pair stared at one another, a battle in itself, before Zora relented and dipped her head. She didn't want to argue about this. She didn't want to think about it.

"You didn't know?" Regardless, she needed to know this. She required this of him. Part of her thought that maybe this was the reason her legs had carried her down here, into the bowels of Asgard's dungeons. "When you took me, you didn't know?"

That flicker of relief that played through his blue eyes right when the Avengers had saved her from being executed looped through her mind, again and again. He must know, she thought to herself. That was why he was so relieved. It made sense.

"No." He sounded surprised, himself, and because of this, Zora did not doubt the veracity of his answer. "No… I did not. If I had, do you think I would've let you slip away so easily?"

"You mean, would you have been beaten by the Avengers so easily?" Zora pretended to ponder this a moment. "Honest answer? Yeah. You would have been. Because you were going to lose, no matter what."

"Perhaps," he allowed. "As I've said before… The Norns have desires of their own."

"Your eyes are different," Zora pointed out again. She was almost enchanted by the way they glimmered, the foresty green color of them. Such vitality, whereas before, they had been cold as ice. "They're green."

He stared at her, hard, as if he were debating whether to indulge her unasked question or not. Finally, he changed the subject once more. "If you're the War-Breaker… This means you are destined to kill Hela. The Goddess of Death. Tell me, my dear… How does one go about killing the Goddess of Death?"

The taunt that ran through his rich voice in a thick undercurrent made Zora want to snap at him. But she couldn't. Because she had been wondering the exact same thing, herself.

Fed up with the raven-haired prince, his sly smiles, his taunts and words that hit too close to home, Zora glared at him and turned away. "I'm not sure. But you had better hope, for your sake, that we figure something out."

000

Loki watched the curious creature that was Zora Haque turn away from his cell and leave without a backwards glance. The trinket, which had alerted him of her presence just minutes earlier, crooned after its owner, singing the sweetest melody Loki had heard since he was last on Midgard over six months ago.

All the mystery surrounding the woman fell away at this new revelation: she was the War-Breaker, the daughter of Aesir prophecy, an allegedly fierce warrior destined to slay the Goddess of Death herself.

 _Lady Death calls for Zora Haque_ , Thanos had told him, almost eight moons ago. Of course, it made sense now. Hela had been preparing her siege of the Realm Eternal for far longer than anyone suspected. Thanos was clearly involved. Hela had wanted to remove the War-Breaker from the picture before the prophecy could even come close to realization.

It all made so much sense, now. And Loki felt like such a fool. He should have connected the dots. He should have realized sooner.

Memories surfaced, faded in and out of focus, a whole collection of hints that he should have seen. Loki's brief rule over Midgard, orchestrated by the Mid Titan. The Titan's desire for Loki to capture a mortal who had seemed so inconsequential at the time. Thor's reluctance to share information on her during his captivity, his desperation to protect the strange little creature.

Thor. Loki growled to himself, balled his hands into fists and wished he had somewhere to direct his rage. Thor had known this whole time who Agent Zora Haque was. The entire time. Thor had fooled Loki. Never, in their 1500 years of living, had that ever occurred.

Hiding just beneath his rage was a sliver of admiration for his brother. Loki could not deny Thor's adaptability. Such a refutation would be just as foolish.

But the mortal – the not-mortal, or whatever she was… the daughter of the prophecy. She was not prepared for the battle and bloodshed that was to come. This Loki knew for certain.

000

Zora had never mastered the art of taming her loneliness. It plagued her no matter where she went or who she was with. It lingered at the corners of her mind, in the tresses of shadows of thoughts, always ready to pounce, always there to remind her: _you are alone in this world. And you always will be_.

The monster that her loneliness had become since the Battle of New York began stalking her anew, on the dimly lit streets of Asgard. Seeing Loki had both quieted some of the chaos of her mind and reignited the haunting thought that had terrified Zora since she was a child: _I am alone because I am different_.

 _You're connected to things, Zora_. A younger version of herself had already understood what that meant. You're connected to things, Zora. Things that other people are not connected to. Things that set you apart. Things that, in the end, might tear you down. Might scare people away.

After Loki's condescending words – _how do you kill the Goddess of Death_? – Zora felt fear. Pure, thick fear. It pumped through her veins. It made her heart jump in her chest. It made her loneliness that much more terrible.

She wasn't sure at what point she had wandered onto a great balcony in the palace overlooking the sleeping golden city. Wasn't sure when her nails had started to bleed from gripping the marble balustrade too hard, as if it were the only thing in the world that might steady her. Wasn't sure when she had started crying or stopped, since she could feel drying trails of salty tears on her cheeks. Mostly, she wasn't sure when she had received company.

"It is only logical to feel such emotional turmoil," a kind, soft voice said at Zora's elbow, close enough to startle the young woman but far enough away that she didn't feel that her personal bubble had been invaded. Zora flinched and turned towards the voice's source, coming face to face with a beautiful older woman who carried herself like a queen.

A queen. Shit. Fuck. This probably _was_ the queen, right?

While Zora was mentally freaking out, the woman – possibly the fucking _queen_ – continued, her smile gentle, encouraging. "To be told, for so long, that you are one thing only to learn that you are another. It can be difficult to adjust."

As much as Zora tried to focus on the present, she couldn't help but sense the loss and pain in the woman's voice. And that's how Zora confirmed that this was, in fact, the queen. Because that loss, that pain, came from Loki. From the deceit he had endured, the secret of his true heritage.

"I suppose I never realized Loki and I had so much in common," Zora said carefully. These were delicate matters, of course. Even for her, it was so raw. "To be honest, he and I… have not really seen eye to eye."

The queen smiled contritely. She joined Zora at the balustrade, placing one elegant and strong hand atop of it while another hovered over her stomach. "I know my youngest son has not always treated you with honor, Lady Haque, and I am deeply sorry for that. He wasn't… himself."

Zora had to bite her tongue. She wanted to curse Loki up and down the fucking street. But there was also a part of her that didn't want to. Part of her remembered blue eyes which were now green. Remembered that raw and plain sense of relief crossing over his face as the Avenger's swooped in and kept him from executing her.

Maybe there was some truth to the queen's words. Maybe he had not been himself. But, then, who had he been?

"Queen Frigga, I presume?" Zora half-asked, half-stated. She fumbled a moment, uncertain if she was supposed to curtsey or bow, but the queen kindly saved her from the distress and unfamiliarity.

"Indeed," Frigga answered. She held out a hand to Zora, and it took the young woman a moment to realize that the queen was offering to shake her hand. Like mortals. Like normal people.

Zora clamped her mouth shut and gently shook the queen's hand. Then, stuttered out without thinking, "I'm so sorry – I've never met royalty before… I don't know how to curtsey, or – "

"It's quite all right," the queen said with a pretty laugh. "As I was telling Lady Jane not too long ago, it is nice to do away with some of the more formal Asgardian customs on occasion. It is… refreshing."

Zora could understand that, in her own way. It was nice to step out of your skin every once in a while. To pretend, if only for a brief period of time, that you were not tangled up in all the strings you were so helplessly tangled up in.

"I appreciate your kindness," Zora said to the queen, uncertain of what else there was to say. "And your hospitality."

"Of course. It is my pleasure, and if Odin were here to meet you, he would certainly say the same." She regarded Zora carefully, her deep blue eyes taking stock of the young Midgardian warrior. Those eyes lingered on Zora's fingernails, bloodied and ugly, before smiling enigmatically at Zora. "I must say… we have waited a long time for this moment. Not with eager anticipation, given the circumstances… But a long time, nonetheless."

Zora swallowed thickly, tucked her hands behind her back to hide evidence of her anxiety. The circumstances that the queen was referring to, of course, was Ragnarok. The end of the gods. Turning away from the older woman's elegant visage, Zora stared across the golden Asgardian land once more, trying and failing to picture it as anything other than what it was: lively, strong, beautiful.

And she was supposed to be the one to keep it that way?

"I… have a hard time believing what Thor told me, to be honest with you, your majesty," Zora admitted quietly, her chin tucked closer to her chest. "But at the same time… It somehow feels right."

Frigga hummed in agreement. "I can understand more than you might think," the woman divulged. Zora canted her head to find a sad smile on the woman's berry painted lips. "I am not Asgardian, you see, but Vanir. I hail from Vanahiem, the land of the light elves." Zora marveled at this, searched the woman's appearance for any obvious distinctions that would set her apart from Asgardians… but truth be told, she wouldn't know what a light elf looked like, anyway. The queen caught her stare, regardless. "Ah, yes. Odin and I agreed that, like Loki's true self is partly tucked away by spell, it would be wise to reduce the visibility of my Vanir blood." Another small, sad smile. "But as I was saying… I was young when I learned I was promised to a future king. Too young, still, when I became queen of a realm that was not mine. It took time to process. There were times when I thought I was living a dream."

Zora kept her expression schooled into one of curiosity in order to hide her shock. She didn't even know this woman, this queen, and yet she was showing Zora a kindness by sharing such personal details about her own life to be comforting. To reassure Zora that things would make sense, in time.

God, she hoped she could save Asgard. If only for this incredible woman. For Thor.

"This place is like a dream," Zora said, feeling more confident now, more grounded. Sure, she was terrified. She didn't know what lay in store for her tomorrow or the day after. But the quiet strength in the queen's face emboldened her. It helped her face facts: this was her reality now. "Asgard is so beautiful… and I will do my best to defend it. You have my word."

"And you have my gratitude, War-Breaker."

000

"Is that supposed to be… armor?" Fandral asked Zora skeptically, circling the young woman as his rich brown eyes assessed her Midgardian garb. At the table, Volstagg snorted while Fandral finally stopped directly in front of Zora, a deep frown marring his pretty lips. "I find it rather…"

"Lacking?" Sif supplied in agreement. She, too, had stood from the table after Thor brought her inside, having mentioned that the Warriors Three and the prolific Sif wanted to meet her. "Poorly constructed?" The dark-haired goddess brushed a finger over Zora's beloved vest. "Weak?"

Zora glared first at Sif, then Fandral. "Gee, what a warm welcome."

Thor bellowed with laughter behind her, his arm still wrapped protectively around Jane, as it had been ever since they had landed on Asgard. "Do not take it so personally, Lady Haque. Sif and the Warriors Three have seen the best armor in all the realms due to their travels. They become nearly as snobby as Loki and his literature when they find something that doesn't measure up to their high standards."

Bleh, as if it wasn't hard enough trying to accept the fact that she's some prophetic creature. Now she had people judging her preferred battle armor, too.

Sif sized her up, arms crossed over her chest. "Worry not, my new friend," she said to Zora seriously, although Zora was beginning to realize that 'serious' was probably Sif's only mode. "I shall have new armor commissioned for you straight-away." Then she looked Zora in the eyes and smiled. Actually smiled.

Zora's heart briefly stopped. God, this woman was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

"Only the best for our savior," Sif said, before spinning on her heel gracefully and exiting the room without so much as a goodbye.

Fandral grinned after Sif's retreating body, then turned his pearly whites onto Zora. She could understand, now, why Thor had always mentioned that this warrior was quite the ladies' man. He was so gods-damned pretty. "I think you've made a friend, Lady Haque," the warrior commented gleefully. "Which is not to be taken lightly. Sif does not make _friends_."

Whatever remark Zora might have made in response to this was lost when an Asgardian soldier entered the room, stiff-backed and formal.

"King Thor," he said, bowing his head deeply as he addressed the now acting king of Asgard. Silence dampened the room at the title. Everyone was sobered by it. By what it meant. "The War Council… what is left of it… wishes to meet in the Hall of Knowledge. It has been locked down to act as a temporary War Room."

Any traces of joviality had been erased from Thor's expression. He nodded at the soldier solemnly. "We shall go."

"And, my king," the soldier hurriedly continued, seemingly embarrassed at himself or what he had to say. Then he snuck a glance at Zora, and her belly dipped all the way to her toes. Glancing back to his king, the soldier said, "The War-Breaker's presence has also been requested. At your discretion, of course."

Zora locked eyes with Thor. So this was it. This was how it would all begin.


	3. Chapter 3

**PART THREE**

Zora was not shy of war. Far from it. As a child, she had delighted in her grandfather's exaggerated tales of valor and heroism during the two World Wars. After he had passed, she carried his storytelling spirit on with her and sought out every novel and history book she could manage for years, hungrily reading about battles and massacres and victories. She dreamt of becoming a soldier at night, lulled to sleep by a dangerous, romanticized idea of what it meant to fight and kill and die for one's country. Years later, when she'd actually become a soldier, she had learned how foolish her childish dreams were, but was nevertheless devoted to her career.

For as long as she could remember, she felt like she was meant to be a warrior. A fighter.

Going into SHIELD had only seemed like a natural path to follow. Hell, even being called in by Director Fury himself to fight alongside the Avengers in the Battle of New York hadn't seemed like too much of a stretch of the imagination at the time, partially because she had been so focused on the mission and partially because it had felt so _right_.

Despite all of this, Zora felt mightily out of place in the new Asgardian War Room, surrounded by curious and skeptical men and women who were Asgard's finest military minds. Although she stood at Thor's right hand – a significant honor, if the brows that had raised at her entrance to the room were any indication – she could not so easily escape his people's stares.

She didn't blame them for being so skeptical of her. Not really. Their numbers were reduced, sure – Thor had mentioned that nearly a third of the War Cabinet had perished in the attack – but these men and women were battle-hardened, self-assured, and most important, _gods_. Zora's humanness stood out starkly against their perfect features, tall statures, imperious expressions. She was different, and therefore, vulnerable.

Still, she sat next to Thor with a stiff and straight back, confident shoulders, and a face schooled into a harmonious hybrid of somber and certain. She might not have felt the part, but she would certainly try her best to _look_ the part.

"Hela believes we lack the upper hand," Thor was saying as Zora once more tuned in, somewhat ashamed that she was so easily sidetracked by her own self-consciousness. "But she doesn't know that we've found the daughter of the prophecy. She doesn't know about the War-Breaker." He sounded so sure of himself, so confident that Asgard would not fall to this she-demon. Zora swallowed thickly and straightened her shoulders once more. Gods, what she wouldn't give to feel as certain as Thor.

The thunderer turned a bright smile on her, and she could feel all eyes in the room study them raptly. _What an odd pair we must make_ , she thought absently. _A Thunder God and a mortal wearing Kevlar._

"You speak endlessly about what faith we should have in you, my king," a cabinet minister said to Thor with some annoyance, clearly not seeing the strength in Zora that Thor did. "But you mention nothing of a _plan_. What will we do to defend ourselves against the she-demon, moving forward? Surely you've thought of that?"

To Thor's credit, he did not take the criticism laying down. He issued the complainant a level, hard stare. "A plan is in the works," Thor agreed, his tone becoming harder, more authoritative. "But due to the current circumstances, I find – and you must agree – that any plan regarding Hela must remain covert. Who are we to know who among us would betray Asgard? Who secretly desires to see our beautiful realm turned to ash?"

Murmurs of agreement, of fear. Zora had to admit: Thor was a convincing speaker.

After some more back and forth, which Zora tried her best to tune into, Thor dismissed his cabinet. Honestly, the whole ordeal – meeting with the cabinet and hashing out a few small details here and there – had seemed more like a formality than an actual meeting.

A few short minutes later, Zora was left alone with the Thunderer, alone in the massive library that had been requisitioned as the new War Room, surrounded by books she could not read stacked high into places she could not reach.

"This plan," Zora began, her voice hopeful and fearful all at once. "What is it? What are we gonna do, Thor?"

The visage Thor had worn throughout the meeting – the veneer of confidence, of strength – vanished from his face. Instead, Zora was left facing an exhausted looking Aesir.

"I don't yet know," he simply sighed.

000

"We must defend the _palace_ ," Fandral argued, slamming his fist down on the thick wooden table vehemently, rattling the plate Volstagg was eating from beside him enough to earn himself a sideways glare. "The Allfather is gravely injured. Should we come under attack – should the Allfather be killed – Asgard would become weak. Our people could not survive that, Thor."

Before Thor could voice any opinion, Sif grunted and sneered at Fandral. "So you want to remain on the defensive and leave ourselves vulnerable to whatever attacks the she-demon concocts? To become reactionaries, sheep that willingly jaunt towards the wolf's den, puppets that move to her whim? We must take the fight to _her_ , Fandral. We must not only be on the defensive, but on the offensive as well. Asgard can spare the forces."

"Spare the forces?" Fandral exclaimed incredulously. "Are you mad, Sif? If we were to march our troops to the bottom of the world-tree, we would be condemning them all to death! Is that the offensive you want to take?"

"It would be better than sitting on our hands and waiting for death to come knocking on our door!"

"Enough!" Thor shouted, his voice ringing throughout the Warriors' Three common rooms until all were silent. Jane stiffened beside him, her nerves becoming more and more frayed by the hour, and he ran a hand up and down her back to soothe her. Across the table, beside Sif, Zora Haque wore a fierce, however uncertain, expression, her eyes trained steadfastly onto the acting king.

"Enough," he repeated, quieter. Exhaustion bled into his tone – is this what it was to be king? To have no rest? To constantly second-guess yourself? "We can't be at each other's throats like this, my friends. That's what the she-demon wants. We would only be making her advances all the more viable."

It was true, and he could tell that his childhood friends knew this. They quieted in deference to him, as they always had during their exploits over the years. But this time… it was different. There was a weight to the air that hadn't been there before. There were countless lives at stake.

The typically-silent Hogun was next to speak. "I see the wisdom in your words, Thor – my king – but we are still left with a terrible problem to solve, and no solution to speak of. What about the prophecy? The War-Breaker? Surely the Vanir Seer foretold more than the girl's existence?" He looked around the table hopefully, careful to only inspect Zora for a short period of time lest he make the foreigner terribly uncomfortable. "Perhaps the queen would know?"

"I have already spoken to my mother about the matter," Thor said with some resignation. "But it wasn't fruitful. If the Seer were still alive, maybe… but we are not fortunate enough to know if that is true or not."

"I have an idea," Zora spoke up, the first time she had chosen to speak since their earlier meeting with the War Cabinet. All ears perked up at this, and Thor himself could not deny that he hoped Zora held within herself some knowledge of what to do, where to go, how to prepare. How did you fight a battle you knew next to nothing about? "But you won't like it."

At her admission, the Warriors Three and Sif exchanged uneasy glances. Jane's hand gripped tighter to Thor's, but she looked at Zora with some hope in her eyes. "What is it?"

Zora sighed. "Loki." At the thick, almost dumbfounded silence that followed, she continued with some reluctance. "Think about it. Loki is cunning. He's smart. Smarter than all of us combined – except for Jane, I think. But he has a mind for this. Why isn't he here?"

"Is she joking?" Fandral asked no one in particular. "Please tell me she's joking."

Sif studied Zora as if seeing the mortal for the very first time. "Loki is mad," Sif spat, unimpressed with the idea. "Mad, selfish, and mischievous. He would never help us. And besides, we wouldn't _want_ his help. Anything he might offer would be a double-edged sword. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to help Hela burn Asgard to the ground while convincing the rest of us he was trying for redemption."

"Sif," Thor hissed in reprimand. His chest ached at the words. How had he never noticed how much his friends despised his brother? How had he never seen their easy willingness to hate Loki? Even before what had happened with the Jotuns, what had happened on Midgard. "Loki is my brother and your prince, and you will do well to remember that." To Zora, he frowned. "Loki is… He is complicated, Lady Zora. You yourself know this. But I think you might be on to something."

Loki had been just as distressed as Thor to learn about the bombing. The trickster had even asked after Odin, which was incredible in itself. He would not forsake Asgard. He wouldn't… would he?

Hogun, Volstagg, Fandral, and Sif stared at Thor incredulously. As if Thor had just said that they ought to invite Hela into the Realm Eternal herself for dinner and mead. But they didn't understand. They didn't know Loki. Not like he did.

"The trick would be getting him to help us," Thor said aloud, mostly to Zora, seemingly the only person present that would agree to this new plan. "He is selfish by nature, Lady Zora, and I'm afraid I don't have much to offer him. I'm only acting king for the time. I can't pardon him."

"You don't have to," Zora said enigmatically. She was staring off into the distance, deep in thought. "Just… let me talk to him. I think I have an idea."

000

"Back again so soon, darling?" Loki cooed at her, and Zora could have cursed herself for finding some sort of pleasure in the beautiful tones of his voice. He could read the back of a fucking cereal box to her and she'd be enchanted by that voice. "Am I so intoxicating?"

" _Toxic_ would be a better word for it," she muttered, sizing the god up. He was still dressed in a green tunic and black trousers, his dark hair slicked back from his face, his skin looking a ghostly pale under the bright lights of his cell.

Honestly, he was beautiful. And she hated that about him.

When he smiled at her, it was sharp and shark-like. So much like the first time she had met him. "Was that supposed to wound me, Zora Haque? I've been called worse things."

She didn't doubt this. Zora had been surprised to hear Thor's friends speak so plainly about their dislike of the younger prince. But then again, Loki must have always been the outcast among all the warriors. He was slighter than them, gifted with magic, and ultimately, he wasn't even Asgardian. Not really. Not to them.

Ugh. She wished the queen had never pointed out how much she and Loki had in common.

"I'm not here to argue with you," she surprised herself by saying in a steady, firm tone. The golden-hued barrier shimmered between herself and the trickster god, bathing him in an even more ethereal light. She stepped closer to it, careful not to touch it as he had first instructed her, and studied him closely.

Up close to him, her idea seemed foolish. Why would she, of all people, be able to convince this mad god to help them fight Hela? What could she possibly say to him that would be convincing enough?

Loki was measuring her up with equal attention, but instead of looking uncertain, he looked… predatory. Not quite as he had been in the Tower, when he had been King of Midgard. No, this was different. It was more… personal?

Zora pulled herself away from that train of thought. It didn't matter. Not now, anyway.

"You are quiet, agent. And yet you have come to me. Having regrets, are we?"

He was astute. She'd give him that.

"We need your help." The blunt route seemed the best choice when dealing with a silver-tongued liar. She hoped he would appreciate her candor.

Loki snorted. "Clearly." His grin turned bitter. "Unfortunately for you and those who've decided they can't bear my presence, I don't have much reason to help. I am quite content to sit back and see how things will unfold. Tell me, Agent Haque… Do you think Thor will make a good king?"

Gods, he was so petty! Asgard's fate was on the line, and he was obsessed with seeing if his brother could handle the looming issue better than he might! Zora could have pulled her hair out. "Do you really want to do that? Watch your home burn to the ground just to prove that you'd make a better king? You're childish, Loki. A good king wouldn't put so many lives at risk just to prove a point."

That riled up the raven-haired prince. He snarled and stepped as close to the barrier as he could without touching it. "Be careful how you speak to me, woman. Or have your forgotten that it was I who brought your world to its knees? It was I who invaded your precious earth, who destroyed cities, who killed thousands of your kind without batting an eye. And you wish to bargain with me? To ask for my _help_?" He laughed outright at her, sharp and bitter. "You're as foolish as Thor."

Frigga's words came back to Zora, then, unbidden. That Loki had not been himself when he had taken over Midgard. That he had, perhaps, been something else entirely.

"Your eyes were blue back then," Zora said patiently – or at least in a veneer of patience. "An icy blue. And now they're green. Tell me something, Loki. Was it really _you_ who took over Midgard?"

He went deathly silent. His green eyes were piercing, his glare was enough to make her want to instinctively run for the hills. But Zora held her ground. She kept her chin up and returned his stare, unwilling to relent.

"I will not help you," he bit out between clenched teeth, his hands now balled into fists at his sides. "So I would advise you to leave now, Zora Haque, before you say something that truly puts you on my bad side."

Zora's heart started pounding. She suddenly knew what she had to do. What she had to say to get him to help. And they _needed_ his help, desperately. The Warriors Three and Sif might not be willing to admit that, but she knew it, deep down. Without Loki, they would continue to fight over offensive-defensive strategies until it was too late – until Hela struck again, anyway, and they were all taken off guard. They needed a plan, and Loki always seemed to have a plan.

She just hoped Thor would forgive her.

"If you help us," Zora began, slow, because she was quite possibly damning herself right now by actually making a deal with the devil, "I will help you escape Asgardian custody. Once it's all over. Once the realm is safe and Hela is dead."

Loki stiffened. Those sharp emerald eyes cut into her, so much she almost _felt_ it. "You should beware making deals with me, Zora Haque. And you shouldn't lie to the God of Lies."

"I'm not lying," she asserted, canting her chin. Because she wasn't. She meant every damn word. "Look at me and tell me I am."

He took her words as a true invitation, his eyes roving over every inch of Zora's body. It made her feel naked, vulnerable, completely bare to him. It was more than a little unnerving – it was frightening. But Zora had never been cowed into submission or intimidated into backing down. It simply wasn't in her nature. Instead, she studied the hue of his emerald eyes until his gaze landed back on her, a dark look overcoming his features.

"I'm not lying," she reiterated, her tone challenging him to tell her otherwise.

Loki folded his hands behind his back. "Indeed," he murmured quietly. "You are not."

So they were on the same page. She was truly making a deal with the devil… or at least, the devil she knew. By the way the Aesir spoke of Hela, she was the true villian between the pair.

"Help us," Zora said, "Actually _help us_ , and I'll get you out of here. You can go wherever you want, and I won't give up your location. I give you my word."

Loki stared at her enigmatically. She couldn't quite read the emotion lying within his eyes. "You have a deal, Zora Haque."

000

Zora was restless. Nervous. Two moons had risen into the Asgardian night sky, one a haunting rose color, the other a scintillating white. Both loomed over her and the trickster god as they rose from the pits of the Asgardian dungeons and made haste towards the palace. The evening air tasted electric, and Zora absently wondered if Thor's own anxiety was bleeding into the atmosphere, brewing quiet storms.

Beside her, Loki was grinning from ear to ear, his energy hardly contained. "I must admit," he spoke offhandedly to Zora, casually, as if they were two old friends going on a nightly walk, "I have dreamed of thousands of possible scenarios that would ensure my release, but I never quite envisioned this. Being freed by my former prisoner."

His words forced a chill up her spine, her stomach to roil. Try as she might, Zora would never be able to forget those long days she had spent as his prisoner in the Tower, the bite of the hardwood floors in her knees as she was shoved to the ground, the tension that curled in the air as she awaited her midnight execution.

Feeling a fire build in her from the montage of images, Zora glared sidelong at her companion. There was so much she had dreamt of saying to him over the months. So much she wanted to do. But Asgard was on the brink of war, and now was not the time.

"Your ' _former prisoner_ '," she bit out, trying hard to contain her anger, "is now your only hope for real freedom. So maybe don't try to piss me off."

Suddenly, Loki stopped. So swiftly that Zora was surprised she didn't turn and find him swaying on his feet. His sharp eyes were on her, once again, but they were shuttered, unreadable. A frown marred his lips.

"We need to keep moving," Zora hissed at him. "Time is not exactly in abundance right now."

Still, Loki continued to stare at her silently, as if he were internally debating something. Finally, he opened his mouth, though he seemed… reluctant. "Lady Zora," he said, crisp, formal almost.

Zora's heart stuttered in her chest. She wondered, briefly, if this was it – if this was the moment Loki would actually own up to his actions and _apologize_. What would she do, if he did? Could she forgive him for all the ugliness and evil he had done? Even if it was as Frigga had said, that he had not truly been himself?

However, instead of an apology, he said, very seriously, "If we succeed in saving the realm, if you get me as far away from Asgard as possible… you will truly have my thanks."

Her lips folded into a thin, white line. It had been foolish to expect an apology from the God of Lies, utterly stupid, but still… maybe that was as close to outright saying it as he could get. His eyes, a deeper green than hers, looked so… somber. Like he was trying to convey how serious the matter was to him.

Zora spun on her heel, effectively turning away from him. "Let's just get to the others," she grumbled.

000

Loki was not sure what kind of welcome he expected to have when he and Zora Haque entered the Warriors' Three chambers, but he at least had not expected it to be warm or kind in any way. And it wasn't. The Warriors Three sat at the other end of the room – not even bothering to stand for his entrance, despite his royal blood – Sif glared at him from near the hearth, Jane Foster peered at him curiously but with great reluctance, and Thor… Well, Thor was the exception, of course. Thor clapped Loki on the shoulder, a small smile fixed on his lips.

"Brother," Thor remarked in his typical, jovial manner. "It is good to see you out of that gloomy cell."

Even Loki's insistence that the pair were not brothers could not dampen his high spirits, though. Because, for the first time in six months, freedom rested firmly on Loki's horizon. Freedom he so desperately craved. And it would be granted to him by a woman he didn't think capable of forgiving him. Something that was already tugging at his chest in ways he didn't want to acknowledge.

"It is good to be out of that dreadful cell," Loki agreed. "Now, tell me about all of the terrible plans you've concocted, and I shall see what I can do to remedy them."

It should have been that simple. Loki had a superior strategic mind, and none in the room, no matter how much they loathed him, could dispute that. That was why Agent Haque had even bothered to turn to him. Still, no one was eager to exchange words with him, let alone engage him in actual conversation about Asgard's future security.

Sensing the hesitation in the room, the woman at his elbow spoke up. "Honestly, we haven't even come up with any substantive ideas that go beyond either keeping forces in Asgard to bolster security or sending troops to meet Hela at the bottom of the world tree."

Loki stared at the woman. "You're joking."

Thor, the only other presence in the room willing to even look at him, shook his head gravely. "I'm afraid we are not, brother. Without access to the War Cabinet and their military prowess, we've found ourselves with… far fewer options than we are used to."

He could have rolled his eyes. "Which is why you need me," he commented. "Desperately." Then he looked about the room – at Jane Foster, who was still watching him like he would turn into a snake any moment and bite her, at Sif, who just glared into the fire, now, at Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg, who petulantly ignored him – and sighed. "If we're going to do this, perhaps you should tell your friends that participation is key, Thor."

Much to Loki's surprise, it was Jane Foster who spoke up. "He's right, guys," she said, addressing Sif and the Warriors Three. "If you want to save Asgard… you have to put aside your personal grievances and learn to work together, right now."

The others perked up with attention at the mortal's words. They clearly trusted her, on some level – a level they had never allowed Loki to reach. It was both aggravating to see them listen to a mortal before they listened to one of their own kind as well as somewhat touching – although he would never admit it – that Thor's human would actually speak up on his behalf. Even if out of necessity.

Fandral was the first to break. "Lady Jane is right, I fear," he sighed dramatically, clapping an unhappy Volstagg on the back. Still, he couldn't quite look Loki in the eyes. "Let's get to work, my friends."

000

Three hours later and it was clear to Loki that the mortals – or the mortal and the War-Breaker, whatever in the nine she was – needed their rest. The eight of them had been going over various battle strategies for some time, and it was well beyond the middle of the night. Jane was nearly asleep on one of the plush couches near the hearth, having already succumbed to her mortal frailty. Zora Haque, however, was still working diligently beside him, her eyes bleary but her posture determinedly alert.

As much as he dreaded being alone with only Thor and the other Aesir, Zora and Jane were not exactly buffers, for him. And besides, he would never rely on them as such. He was a prince. He did not need anyone to fight his battles for him.

"You need rest," he told Zora plainly, feeling six other pairs of eyes shoot towards him in various degrees of surprise. "You aren't any use to us this exhausted."

Zora straightened up her shoulders for the umpteenth time and tried to look awake. "I'm fine," she grumbled, annoyed. "We need to hammer out a foolproof plan as quickly as possible, and losing a little bit of sleep isn't really a concern of mine right now."

"You look ready to fall dead to the floor," Loki argued anyway. "What use is a dead War-Breaker to us?"

"What use am I to you, anyway?" Zora questioned hotly, her eyes turning around the room. "Y'know, you guys have all said that I'm some legendary _thing_ , but you haven't exactly been clear on what _my_ part in all of this is supposed to be."

Dead silence. Loki stared at Thor, who in turned stared determinedly at his hands. "You haven't told her?" Loki probed, his tone belying just how stupid of an idea he thought that was.

At his elbow, Zora shifted restlessly. "Told me _what_?"

Loki facepalmed. Of course, leave it to Thor of all people to drag the War-Breaker to Asgard and not even tell her about the prophecy. Not _properly_ , anyway.

Clearing his throat, Thor dared to glance up at the War-Breaker, who was glaring fiercely at him. It was at least refreshing for Loki to see that kind of ire directed at someone who was not him, for a change.

"The War-Breaker…" Thor mumbled, " _You_ … are supposed to deal the final blow to Hela."

Zora stared at his oaf of a brother dumbly for several moments. "I'm sorry… are you saying _I'm_ supposed to be the one to _kill_ her? Like actually kill her? By myself?"

"Not by yourself," Loki spoke up, hoping to defuse a possibly problematic situation. Working with all of them was enough of a headache as it was. "With help, of course. But the final blow – the one that kills her – that must be done by you, or so the prophecy has said. No one else is capable of killing her. To all others, she is nothing short of immortal."

Now Zora turned her stare onto him. The trinket in his pocket crooned at her attention, and he savored the sweet sound. "You asked me yourself how I'm supposed to kill the Goddess of Death," she said, a hint of accusation in her tone. "And I _don't know_. So how am I supposed to be the one to kill her, if I don't even know how?"

Loki breathed, in and out, looking for some form of patience. "We haven't gotten that far, yet. But when we do, I'll be sure to let you know."

Obviously, his sarcastic answer hadn't placated her. She stood up from the table they were all seated at, her chair screeching beneath her as ancient wood ground against stone. "I think you're right," she told Loki sharply. "I'm gonna take a break. Send for me if something changes." Swiveling on her heel, she didn't even wait for a reply before darting from the room.

The awkward silence she left behind was deafening.

"Well," Fandral chirped, resting his chin in his hand. "I suppose that could have gone better."

000

Fear had taken a firm hold on Zora's heart. Fear of failure. Fear of dying. Fear of disappointing the queen she had made a promise to and the thunder god that was placing so much faith in her. Fear of whatever the hell she _was_. Zora was connected to things, she knew this now, but she so desperately did not want to be connected to these things, these leviathan things that could easily swallow her whole. She wanted to turn back time, to go back to the days when she was nothing more than a soldier or a SHIELD agent, when things were simpler. When an entire realm's future did not rest on her shoulders.

She was pacing the length of her quarters, walking to one end of the room, reaching the built-in bookshelf that housed countless tomes in languages she could not read, before spinning on her heel and walking to the other end of the room, towards the windows that overlooked Asgard's beauty. She finally allowed her feet to stop before the grand windows and looked out over the foreign land, a place she never thought she would visit, let alone need to save.

A firm knock sounded at her door a moment later. Zora ground her teeth together, wondering who had felt the need to follow her back. Thor? No, he was needed for further strategizing. Sif or Jane, probably.

Expecting one of the women to have followed her back, Zora was surprised to open her door to none other than the God of Lies himself.

He stood in the hallway looking more than a little uncomfortable. His eyes darted from one end to the other, likely to ensure that no one saw him standing there, at her door, before he glanced up at her. "You should be sleeping," he admonished immediately.

Zora threw her hands up. "How can you hope to lecture me on sleeping when you would have come and woken me up, anyway?"

The smile that curled on his lips was not cruel, mean, or anything malevolent, anything that she was accustomed to from him. It was self-deprecating and a little bit amused. "Because I am extremely talented at being a hypocrite, Lady Zora."

Well, that was a rare show of… not kindness, but… what? Friendliness?

"At least you admit it," she grumbled, stepping away from the door but leaving it open. He took the hint and stepped inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. Call it madness or whatever you want, but Zora oddly did not feel the least bit strange when she realized she was alone with the God of Lies. Probably because she had already been held captive by him, once. At this point, could things really get much worse?

Zora went back to pacing. She didn't care if the demi-god saw her anxiety. She was far too tired to care, right now. Still, she felt his eyes trace her as she made her way across the room, back and forth. She felt them like they were a weight pressing down on her.

"Thor should have told you sooner," Loki admitted quietly, surprising Zora enough to stop in the center of her room. She turned towards him, head cocked ever so slightly, as she took in the trickster's own tired features. He was deathly pale, owing to having not been under the sun in six months, and his eyes were encircled by a chalky-looking darkness, evidence of his own exhaustion.

Zora tugged at the ends of her hair. "Why wouldn't he?" she asked, although the question wasn't even really directed at Loki. She just couldn't imagine why her friend would keep that from her. "Why wouldn't he tell me something like that? Why drag me all the way here and not even mention the most important part?"

Loki looked on at her with something suspiciously akin to sympathy in his eyes. "I myself have wondered the same. Although I would be the last person to ever justify Thor's oafish intentions," he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I imagine he thought you wouldn't have come if you knew your true purpose."

Well… that was fair. Kinda. She probably would have been a hell of a lot more hesitant to throw caution to the wind and follow Thor to Asgard had she known she was destined to _literally_ kill the Goddess of Death.

"He has to know I wouldn't forsake his home. His people. I'm… I'm _lost_ and confused, but I'm not an asshole, Loki. And he knows that."

Something about what she said clearly bothered the demi-god, but he pressed his lips shut tight and refrained from immediately responding. After a few moments in which he seemed to have gathered his patience again, Loki nodded. "Perhaps, Agent Haque, Thor is just as lost and confused. Ragnarok… The end days…" He looked off over her shoulder, his eyes glossing over with deep thought. "We never imagined we would live to see it." Then he huffed out a short, self-deprecating laugh. "Despite the prophecy."

Zora became infinitely more attentive. "The prophecy that states that you're responsible for Ragnarok." It was a question and a statement all rolled into one quiet sentence.

Loki stared at the marble floor. "Indeed."

Zora couldn't help it. Call it stress, call it lack of sleep or hysteria, but she burst out laughing. She laughed so hard that she doubled over and had to clutch at her stomach to reign herself in. She laughed until tears formed at the edges of her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. And she laughed even harder when she noted Loki's disturbed, almost offended, expression.

"I'm sorry," she managed to get out between stifled chuckles. "It's just… Look at us, Loki. You and me. Children of prophecy. I never thought – "another laugh, and even she realized that she was bordering on becoming truly hysterical –"that I'd have so much in common with the fucking God of Lies."

Understanding dawned in his eyes. First like a bright light, a necessary realization, before his expression morphed into something darker. Bitter. "Yes, I imagine this is your worst nightmare coming into fruition," he bit out, the patience he had practiced earlier completely vanished, now.

Zora sobered up quickly, noticing the sudden change in her companion. Gods, the man was so self-loathing. She could see it now. That maybe he hated himself more than the others did, combined.

So much in common. It was… it was scary, honestly.

"No," she told him, her tone curiously firm. "That's not what I meant."

He looked at her coldly. Had his eyes always been such a marble-green? "Then what, pray tell, did you mean, Agent Haque?"

Scrubbing a hand over her face, feeling her utter exhaustion settle deep within her bones, Zora sighed. She was trying to keep up her policy of honesty with the God of Lies. He'd be able to tell if she was lying, anyway.

"My mother always told me I was connected to things. Things I didn't quite understand. It haunted me for most of my life, until I joined the army. I… thought I could escape it. Whatever fortune she foretold. But it never sat well with me, and it always lingered in the back of my mind…" Zora cut herself off, realizing that she was prattling and the demi-god wasn't exactly known for any sort of genuine patience or for having an interest in pitiful origin stories. "Long story short…" She looked up, finding those marble-green eyes trained on her so firmly that for a moment, it was as if she were caught within his grip. Zora exhaled, soft. "Long story short, I think I'm beginning to understand. It's not Asgard I'm connected to. It's not even Hela. If you were destined to begin Ragnarok, and I am destined to end it…" Understanding dawned in his gaze, and for a moment, he looked raw. Absolutely raw. Vulnerable. "It's you. I'm somehow connected to you, I think."

The words poured from her mouth, uncertain and unpracticed and, before then, unknown, but they felt so true. It felt right. That was why Loki's image had still haunted her months after she'd been freed from his captivity. That's why she was the only one to propose going to him for help. That's why… well, that's why she could almost _empathize_ with him.

But it was too much for the trickster. Too real, maybe. He opened his mouth, as if he might say something, anything, but shook his head. Then, without another word, he disappeared.

000

The damn trinket was crooning again. Singing such sweet, tantalizing melodies, like the call of a siren pulling him into some maddening abyss.

His hand immediately tucked into his pocket, his fingers wrapping around the trinket angrily, ready to crush it to dust. But he couldn't. He simply couldn't.

If what Zora Haque had just admitted to him was true…

Then she and Thor were not the only ones lost and confused. So Loki did what he always did when he found himself in such a predicament.

He turned to his mother.

Frigga smiled when she saw him, her eyes crinkling at their edges, all the love she had ever felt for him painfully clear in her blue-eyed gaze. In her presence, under her gaze… Loki felt safe. Understood. Frigga was the only being in the universe who was able to make him feel that way.

"Mother," he greeted quietly, dipping his head to her in reverence, before seating himself beside her, out on the balcony overlooking her garden. The air smelled sweet of blossoming flowers, and he breathed it into his lungs with need.

Frigga's long, pale fingers – the same Loki himself had, despite not being her blood son – reached out toward him and brushed his arm softly. "My son. I was wondering when you would visit me."

He instantly felt shame. "I apologize, Mother – things have been so dire – "

"I understand, Loki," Frigga said kindly. She patted his arm with reassurance. "There's much to be done. And you are the key to it all, aren't you?"

Her words shook him. His stomach coiled up, taut, like Jormungandr around Midgard.

"You know something." It wasn't a question. Loki could tell, simply by looking at his mother and her always-secretive eyes, that she did in fact know something. Something she had yet to share with the others.

"I know of possibilities," she admitted, turning her gaze back towards her garden down below with fondness. "That is all. You know this, my son. My gift has its limitations."

"But these possibilities –"

"They aren't for you to know."

Loki clamped his mouth shut, dumbfounded.

 _It's you_ , Zora had said. _I'm somehow connected to you, I think_.

"I need your guidance, Mother," Loki confessed hoarsely, ignoring the sweet song crooning from his pocket. "Now more than ever. I'm… I'm not sure what to do."

Frigga looked at her son affectionately. "You will figure it out, Loki. You always have."

"The War-Breaker…" He trailed off. He couldn't say Zora's name, not to his mother. He had _never_ spoken of a woman to his mother. Not ever. In these dire times, now could not be the first. "Are we… Has fate tied us together?"

The smile on the queen's lips was true. "The Norns are mysterious. Who am I to know who they have connected and who they have not?"

 _Connected_. There was that word again. It was haunting him, but he couldn't tell if he was soured by it or… hopeful.

"I can give you one word of advice," Frigga offered, that enigmatic smile back in place. Loki's heart fluttered in his chest. "You will want to stray from this path, Loki – there are evils lurking in the shadows hoping to latch on to you, to pull you from your redemption. You will be tempted, but you must not allow yourself to submit. She would never forgive you. In all of the possibilities revealed to me, this has remained true."

His palms felt sweaty. Loki felt nervous – well and truly nervous – for the first time in eons.

His mother may well have told him that the War-Breaker was correct. They were connected, perhaps. By Fate.

000

Zora had allowed herself a brief nap before she, reluctantly, returned to the Warriors' Three quarters, AKA, their brainstorming zone. She tried hard not to think about what she had realized earlier with Loki – that perhaps, all this time, her mother had been alluding to her connection to Loki of all people. Not to Asgard, not to Hela, not even to the prophecy. But the God of Lies and Mischief. The god who had once tried to take over her realm and held her prisoner.

It was so fucked up.

When she pushed open the doors that led into the warriors' quarters, she found Jane dead asleep on the couch in front of the hearth and the others – Sif, Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg, and Thor – hunched over the table, speaking quietly to one another.

At Zora's sudden arrival, all head's but Jane's turned to her, surprise and apprehension thick in the air.

"Zora," Thor said, standing. "Loki… He was correct. You really should rest." Then he glanced down at Jane, probably realizing for the first time that his lover had already fallen asleep. "And I should carry Jane back to our chambers, where she'll be more comfortable."

He seemed nervous, Zora noted. Guilt-ridden. Couldn't quite look her in the eye. She had already been snappy with him the day before, when he had led her to her temporary rooms and had tried to apologize. Zora figured she owed him some kindness, at least.

"Before you do, maybe we could talk for a moment?"

Thor finally looked her straight in the eyes, uncertain, but nodded. "Of course."

He turned back to his friends and encouraged them to continue plotting before crossing the room towards Zora. Opening the door, he led her out into the hallway, if only for some privacy.

He ducked his head as soon as the door clicked shut behind them, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. Under any other circumstances, it would have been funny to see Thor look so out of sorts. "Zora…" he began, sounding so uncertain, and so unlike the thunderer she had come to know. "I'm sorry. I genuinely am. I have caused you such strife…"

"Thor," she said softly, reaching up to place her hand on his shoulder, catching his eyes again. They were a stormy blue, but soft, gentle. "You don't need to apologize. I'm sorry about how I reacted. It was… childish, and it doesn't help our situation at all."

"But you were right," he cut in, mournfully. "A friend does not keep secrets, and I omitted a very important detail."

She smiled softly, sadly. "That might be true, but this is just the way things are. I understand why you might've been reluctant to tell me everything. It was a lot to process as it was…" She sighed. "What I'm trying to tell you, Thor, is that I understand. There's no bad blood between us. Okay?"

Relief surfaced in his violently blue eyes, still subdued by his own guilt. "You are kind, Zora."

"No… I'm just your friend. And friends forgive one another."

Finally, the thunder god smiled. And Jesus, when he smiled, he was truly breathtaking. Jane was a lucky woman.

"Am I interrupting a heart to heart?" a familiar, jaunting voice asked.

Zora could have rolled her eyes. Leave it to Loki to disappear just over an hour earlier and reappear when she least desired his presence. Especially since he'd just… left her. After her rather uncomfortable admission.

Thor, however, didn't note the tension between Loki and Zora. He smiled at his brother. "I am fortunate enough to earn the forgiveness of Lady Haque," he admitted. Then he looked at his brother – really looked at him – and recognized the familiar twinkle Loki would get in his eyes when an idea occurred to him. "Have you managed to come up with a plan?"

"I have," Loki acknowledged. "However, none of you will like it very much."

A strange echo of Zora's words earlier.

Thor, to his credit, merely shrugged. "How bad could it be?"

000

To answer Thor's question, Zora soon realized that it could be bad. Really, really bad. Colossally bad. Honestly, if she didn't know how much Loki valued his own life, she would wonder if he was purposefully setting them all up on a suicide mission.

"You seriously think a small team of warriors is enough to stop the Goddess of Death?" Sif asked caustically, echoing the thoughts of all in the room. She huffed out a bitter laugh, expression sour. "You are more foolish than I thought, Loki. If you think we'll walk into your death trap willingly, you're mad."

"Firstly," Loki said snarkily, holding up his finger with a smirk, "The question of my madness has already been debated and concluded. Secondly, it is not a death trap, Sif. Think about it. Would Hela really expect us to wander down the world tree without an army? No. And our only advantage would be to take her off guard."

"Besides," Thor said thoughtfully, his fingers templed on the table in front of him as he stared down, deep in thought, "We could leave all of our forces here. To protect the city, the Allfather."

"Exactly," Loki chirped, glad someone was finally seeing his vision.

Zora, however, was far less confident. She agreed with Sif, to an extent. She knew Loki wouldn't try to kill them – he already had the chance to redeem himself in Asgard's eyes by ending Ragnarok, and a promise from Zora herself to help him escape once it was all over. But traveling down the world tree, down into Hel… It _did_ seem like a suicide mission.

Sif was not appeased in the least. "I still say we march half of our army down into the pits of Hel and slaughter her where she stands," the woman said fiercely.

Zora had to give it to her. She was _definitely_ the Goddess of War.

Surprisingly, though, it was Fandral who spoke up next. "I can't believe I'm saying this," he sighed, "but I think I might agree with Loki. Leaving all of our forces here to protect the palace ensures that, should Hela attack, the Allfather and Mother will be safe. The throne will survive. And, my friends, we have gone up against worse odds, before. Just the six of us. We invaded Jotunheim, and had we been better prepared, we could have defeated the Jotunns within an hour."

Beside Zora, Loki blinked in surprise at the support. But he was never one to be caught off guard for long. He needed to sell his plan, she knew, and he was going to do that. Whatever it took. "And we are prepared," Loki chimed in. "We have the daughter of the prophecy. Hela doesn't know this. We can do this," he said, looking at each and every warrior, even Jane, with firm conviction, "and we can win."

All eyes turned to Thor. Ultimately, it was his decision. He was acting king, after all. After several long moments in a thoughtful silence, Thor slowly nodded. He turned to Loki, decided. "Prepare yourselves. If we are to do this, then we shall start right away. We leave at dawn."

Zora could feel her heart flutter madly in her throat. Fuck, what had she gotten herself into? According to Loki, _she_ was the secret weapon. They were putting their faith in the fact that she, Zora Haque, former SHIELD agent, could somehow put a stop to the Goddess of Death.

How could they believe in her when she didn't even believe in herself?

000

Zora ran her fingers reverently over the new armor Sif had commissioned for her. And thank the Norns or whoever for Sif – if they were to leave at dawn, Zora would have been woefully unprepared. Her Midgardian Kevlar would have been laughably useless for the journey ahead.

The material of her new armor was unlike anything she had ever felt, except for those rare occasions she had touched Thor's armor. And she had never touched Loki's – her interactions with him had not exactly been physical. Furthermore, Sif seemed to have guessed Zora's style better than the Midgardian had expected.

It was all black. Every single bit of it – from the straps on the beautiful vest that would crisscross her chest, securing obsidian-colored plates into place, to the knee-high boots that were not quite metal, but not quite leather, either. It was perfect. In a word, it was Zora.

Zora hadn't noticed the other figure looming in her mirror until her eyes snapped up from her self-perusal, green eyes meeting green.

Loki stood with his hands settled behind his back regally, his deep, roiling emerald eyes scanning Zora from top to bottom. A smirk had settled on his lips, but that wasn't very unusual.

"I'm surprised," he intoned, taking just one step closer to Zora – but that one step was enough to bring him nearly flush with her back. "I didn't take Sif for the observant sort, but she seems to have outfitted you with an armor that is… quite suitable."

Zora could have rolled her eyes. "Suitable? That's the best word you could come up with?"

His green gaze pierced her to her spot. "I think you would not be terribly endeared to the other terms that have passed through my mind."

Jesus fuck. Zora's stomach nearly dropped to her toes. What the hell did that mean? Either he thought she looked ugly as Hell, or… Or she didn't want to consider the other possibility.

"What are you doing here?" Her tone, of course, came out a smidge too accusatory, but Zora found that she didn't even mind. It was nearing two in the morning and their traveling party left at dawn – barely four hours away. Didn't Loki have better things to do than bother her? Like sleep, maybe?

He seemed to read her thoughts. Smile turning sharp, he said, "I've already prepared what I will need for the journey. I came to see how you were faring, all things considered."

Again, Zora found herself almost… touched… by the Trickster God's thoughtfulness. _Almost_. "You want to know how I'm doing?" Loki, mercifully, ignored the way Zora's voice turned hoarse with anxiety. "I'm about to go on a fucking intergalactic road trip with Norse gods to ultimately kill the Goddess of Death, who nearly killed the Allfather and definitely killed a whole lotta other people the other day, through realms I can barely pronounce let alone have ever heard of before, which is probably gonna end up with me dying on some far-away planet, alone, sad, and defeated." Having gotten all of that out in one breath, Zora sucked air into her lungs and sighed, mussing with her hair. Yeah, okay, so she was having a bit of a freak out. But what level-headed person wouldn't?

Gentle hands ghosted over Zora's biceps. Glancing into the mirror, jaw dropping in surprise, she found that Loki's gaze was still focused intently on her, but he had quickly retracted his hands. His expression was decidedly _soft_.

Was she dreaming? This had to be a dream.

"It's a lot to take in," he agreed quietly. "Learning your true identity so abruptly, without a word of warning… Zora Haque, I am sorry." And gods, he sounded so… _sincere_. "I wish I could offer you better words of wisdom. But we must simply push on."

Why the demi-god even cared was beyond Zora. Unless it was one of his manipulation tactics. He wasn't dubbed the God of Lies for nothing, after all. "I already made my promise to you," Zora said, stiffly turning away from the god and walking towards the pack she had laid out on her bed. "You don't need to try to… do whatever the hell you think you're doing to get me to keep it. When I give my word, I keep it. That's that."

She could feel the heat of his gaze trail her towards the bed. Could feel him stare at her, still, as she busied herself with the items she would need to bring. Food, of course, water, a change of clothes, as many weapons as she could manage, a sleeping mat…

"You think I'm being insincere." It was a statement, not a question. His tone was flat, sad even.

Zora chanced a look at him, finding that he had never even looked away from her. His gaze was torn. Not a mask, like it usually was. He seemed… afraid.

Despite this, Zora said, as softly as she could manage, "They don't call you Silvertongue for nothing."

A smile stretched on his lips, but it looked pained. As if she'd said something that had awakened a deeply buried insecurity. "As hard as it might be to believe, Zora Haque, even I am capable of sincerity and, on very rare occasion, empathy."

Something about that statement seemed personal. As if he had just divulged something very important to her.

Zora frowned, setting one of her Karambit daggers down on the bed to consider the god before her fully. "I…" I what? she wondered. The Loki she had known had imprisoned her. Had wreaked havoc on her world, had killed thousands, had intended to possibly kill thousands more. But was that the only Loki she knew? What about the man who had seemed so full of regret on the night of her would-be execution? What about the relief that flashed in his icy-blue eyes? The strange way he spoke to her far less caustically than her counterparts, than the Aesir, his own people?

Maybe she didn't know the real Loki at all. Then again, there was probably not a soul in the universe who did.

"I believe you," she said at last. There was nothing else to say, no better words to utter in that moment. And as soon as the final word left her mouth, relief as stark and raw as the night Zora had been rescued by the Avengers appeared on Loki's face.

Maybe a simple _I believe you_ was all the God of Lies actually needed to hear.

000

Zora stared at the beast fidgeting in front of her, running its massive muzzle along the thick Asgardian grass near its hooves before chortling to itself, shaking its massive head. She stared and stared, her face devoid of any emotion, but her uncertainty about this whole godsdamned covert mission doubling with every second that passed.

There was one simple thing that stood between Zora Haque, War Breaker, and her supposed destiny: this horse.

She had never ridden a horse before.

"You look wary, War Breaker," Fandral commented off-handedly, saddling his own horse beside her. And sure, he didn't mean anything by it. Not at all. But Zora's anxiety was fueling her temper, and that combined with the fact that she _really_ wasn't a morning person was putting her in a singularly bad mood today. "Afraid of horses, are you?"

"No," she bit out, surprising Fandral and Volstagg, who stood not too far away, by her harshness. "I'm not."

Fandral's mouth flapped open and shut before he looked to Volstagg for guidance. His red-haired, red-bearded friend just smiled at Zora. "Baberill," Volstagg started, nodding at the beast, "is soft-tempered, Lady Zora. She will not give you any trouble."

Zora forced a smile for the warrior's benefit. "Yeah… thanks."

That still left the question of how she was expected to ride Baberill. Or do anything at all with the creature. Since most of their travel was dependent on the horses.

Gods, she was so in over her head.

Just as she was beginning to wonder if there was any other mode of transport available to her, Thor entered the royal stable house, wearing an expression of grim defeat, with an eager and determined Jane Foster trailing behind him.

"Lady Jane," Fandral bowed to Jane, swooping one of her tiny hands up in his and placing a gentle kiss on it. "It is so kind of you to see us off."

Thor's already sour expression grew pained.

Jane, on the other hand, smiled sweetly at Fandral and the other warriors. "Actually," she chirped, rolling her shoulders back, "I'm not here to see you off. I'm going with you."

The silence that followed her revelation was deafening.

"I beg your pardon…" Fandral trailed off, his wide blue eyes turning questioningly onto Thor. "What?"

Thor merely nodded before turning, stiffly, and walking over to prepare his own steed. "She speaks the truth," Thor grunted out. "She will come with us."

Volstagg, clearly the more tactful of the pair, turned away and pretended to focus solely on saddling his horse whilst Fandral, the more dramatic, attempted a weak smile at Jane before stalking up to Thor. "She _what_?" he hissed, loud enough for the others in the stable to hear him. Jane, to her credit, took it all in stride. "Thor… I don't mean to offend you, my friend, my _king_ , but Lady Jane…"

"Yes?" Thor asked, impatient.

Fandral gaped like a fish out of water. Then he swallowed thickly and found his courage. "Lady Jane is _mortal_ , Thor. Unless you two carried out the Rites of Idunn yesterday evening, she is mortal. And the woman who holds your affections. Do you really think it wise to bring her on a journey that almost certainly promises death?"

Oh great, Zora thought to herself. So she wasn't the only one lacking confidence about the outcome of this mission.

While the two Aesir argued over the perils of Jane's presence, Zora decided to cut straight into the awkwardness that had descended between her, Jane, Volstagg, and the always-silent Hogun, and stepped up to Jane with a careful smile.

"I'm going to guess that this is your idea and not Thor's," Zora ventured.

Although Jane maintained her smile and easy air, it was plain to see that the woman was nervous. "Yes," she admitted. "And I know you probably don't think it's a good idea either, Z, but please, just hear me when I say this… I _need_ to be there."

It wasn't hard to guess why Jane felt that way. She'd been shuttled away during the Battle of New York and its aftermath, hidden deep underground in some SHIELD facility in Norway. Before that, she had been searching for Thor for two years without any news from him. She didn't want to be separated from the acting-Asgardian king, the love of her life, and while Zora didn't understand it personally, she could certainly see Jane's point of view.

"Well, if Thor has agreed… however reluctantly," Zora added with a chuckle, "then I'm not arguing with you. You're one of the smartest people I've ever met, Jane. I know that _you_ know the risks."

"I do," Jane said confidently.

"Then who am I to tell you otherwise?"

Finally, the astrophysicist genuinely grinned.

000

"Well?" Loki looked down at Zora impatiently, his own steed – black, of course, with a wild look in its deep, depthless eyes – shuffling restlessly on the thick Asgardian grass. "Get on Baberill," he commanded. "It's imperative that we make it to the western portal by midday."

The sun – was it really called a sun, here? - was just barely winking above Asgard's watery horizon over the prince's shoulder, sending shocking oranges and pinks through an otherwise deep blue, nearly black, sky.

The others were further away, down a small trail, waiting on Zora and Loki. They hadn't seemed to notice that the War-Breaker had hesitated whilst the rest of them swept up onto their horses without a second thought.

Twiddling her thumbs, Zora looked over at Baberill again, the gentle creature that was supposed to be her travel companion.

Gods, this was embarrassing.

"I can't," she mumbled, looking at the ground, the black shine of her boots, off towards the water that fell gracefully out into the void. Anywhere but at the trickster god.

Loki leaned down somewhat, his expression pinched. "Pardon?"

Ugh. "I can't," Zora said, louder this time. She dared meet his gaze, which was steeped in confusion. Looking how he did in that moment – his dark but slim eyebrows drawn together, a slight furrow between them, emerald eyes open and unguarded – she could see the princely version of Loki even better. Had he always looked like this – so innocent and even harmless – before whatever had propelled him in to the Battle of New York?

"You can't." He tried out her words as if they made no sense to them, as if he were testing out another language. Then he glanced at Zora's horse and seemed to put two and two together. "You're saying you can't ride."

Zora hoped her blush was hidden by the darkness of the morning. "Yes."

Working something out inside his head, Loki glanced once more at her horse before returning his sharp green eyes to her. He held out his hand, palm up, his long, elegant fingers stretched out towards her. "Come, then."

Zora stared at him, lips pressed together tightly. So this was her only other alternative? Sharing a horse with Loki, of all people? Not that she despised him as much as she once did, of course… No, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that Zora was beginning to realize she didn't despise him much at all. In fact, she rather seemed to like the guy.

Which was all sorts of fucked up, wasn't it?

"I don't think…"

"Look," he interrupted, irritation bleeding into his tone alongside something else Zora couldn't quite name. "You can't ride on your own. Unless you'd prefer Fandral's steed to mine – which, I assure you, would result in some very liberal physical contact on his part – Volstagg's massive belly to hold onto, or Hogun's unnerving silence, your only option is me. A deplorable one, I realize, but in my opinion, far superior to the others I've provided."

Of course, he was right. Besides, Loki wasn't a deplorable option whatsoever. Which was what made her worried.

Still, she was holding the others up, and Loki had already told her that time was of the essence. Committing to her decision before she could suffer any more uncertainty, Zora transferred the contents of her saddlebags into Loki's and, at last, grasped his hand.

His palm was pleasantly cool and strong. He pulled her up behind him as easily as one would settle a toddler on a car seat, furthering Zora's embarrassment. Then, not a moment later Zora realized that she might not be victim to Fandral's wandering hands, but she was definitely going to suffer from Loki's clever mind.

"You may well want to hold on, Agent Haque," he told her, his emerald eyes flashing mischievously at her over his shoulder. "Slepnir is not known for being gentle."

And they were off, Zora pressing herself tightly into Loki's back, her arms wrapped around his strong torso, while she wondered if this had actually been his plan all along.

000

Zora marveled at the Asgardian wilderness. It was sloping and gentle, with streams trickling softly here and there, strange birds flitting from one tall, imposing tree to another, and a beautiful sunrise to top it off.

It was amazing.

She stared at each little creature they passed, her head whipping back and forth in wonder as Loki trotted just ahead of the others, towards a destination he had locked away inside his head. When she wasn't enamored with the foreign land around her, Zora was extremely aware of Loki's haughty, smug state.

He led the group of warriors, sans Sif who had stayed behind to command Asgard's impressive army, and he did so with the air of a natural leader. Even Thor had deferred to Loki's direction, trotting just a few paces behind Loki and Zora with Jane clinging tightly to his body, just as uncomfortable and out-of-place on a horse as Zora.

"Shall we play a game to pass the time?" Fandral asked lightly, grinning at Volstagg, who merely grunted in response. It was, in fact, the only response he received. Rolling his eyes, he continued. "Oh, come now." He glanced around, even catching Zora's curious eye. "We've been traveling in silence for the past two hours. I'm _bored_."

"Then perhaps," Loki said lightly, with just the barest hint of bite in his tone, "you should have stayed behind, Fandral. I know how horribly tested for focus you are when there isn't a woman around to woo."

Zora's hands tightened subconsciously around Loki's midsection, worried that a fight might break out between the pair. To her surprise, Fandral merely threw his head back and laughed. "That might be true," he conceded to the dark-haired prince, "but you seem to be forgetting that the _lovely_ ," and at this, he batted his eyes at Zora _,_ "War-Breaker is in our presence. If I had realized she didn't want her own steed, I would have happily offered myself for her service."

Could he have been any more obvious with his double meaning? Zora rolled her eyes. "What makes you think I would have taken you up on that offer?" she queried, being as good-natured as she could manage given the tense circumstances.

Fandral grinned. She was certain that this was the grin that had been the demise of countless women over the years. "Because, Lady Haque, I think you'd find that my temperament is _quite_ agreeable. Unlike your current company."

In front of her, Loki bristled, but in such a minute way that Zora was only privy to his irritation because she was literally pressed up against him. She glanced back at Fandral, wondering for how many centuries Loki had had to endure the warrior's barbs.

"Actually," she said, her mouth working well before her mind, "I much prefer my current company, thank you."

Loki stiffened. In fact, Zora was sure that pretty much everyone stiffened, surprised as they were by her comment. Gods, was it so rare for anyone to say anything nice about the younger Asgardian prince?

Well… probably. He did take over her realm and kill and maim, after all. And then there was that time he ruined Thor's coronation. And, well, he wasn't exactly the _nicest_ , but maybe he had learned to be that way through all of the bullying he'd endured.

Thor, grinning from ear to ear, reached over the small space that separated his horse from Fandral's and clapped his friend on the back faux-pityingly. "You can't win them all, my friend. Especially not the affections of a woman such as Zora." And he laughed, watching as Fandral visibly reddened in embarrassment, his eyes turning downcast.

Loki still rode atop the horse rigid as possible, as if he were suddenly uncomfortable that Zora's arms were wrapped around him. Had she embarrassed him? Well, shit. She went to loosen her grip, but one of his hands caught hers, powerful, strong, and kept it in place. When he didn't let go, Zora wondered even more at what he was thinking. Was Loki, God of Lies and Mischief, actually holding her hand?

"We are nearly there," he said, loud enough for the others to hear. "Less than an hour off. Then we shall enter Vanaheim and make our way to the portal that leads to Svartalfheim."

Hogun's impassive exterior cracked, for once, with curiosity and uncertainty. "And why must we travel through these portals, specifically?" Zora decided she rather liked the warrior. He didn't speak down to Loki like the others did. Neither was he warm and welcoming, either, but he was quiet, respectful. "Can you not simply teleport us there with your magic?"

Loki sighed deeply, as if this was something he had already gone over multiple times. It was, in fact, the first time Zora was hearing of the matter. "Because," he said, patience wearing thin, "should I use my magic to transport us there, Hela will know. However, these portals are small fissures between the realms – accidents, if you would believe that. And they are not monitored, because to most, they are not known. What better way to go about a covert operation than covertly?"

Hogun nodded with appeasement. "I see your wisdom."

Again, Loki was rigid. Before, he had seemed so sure of himself as he led the group down the path of the world tree, but now, Zora was beginning to understand something: these people had never accepted him, before. They were Thor's friends, not Loki's. For even Hogun to defer to Loki in such a way was probably uncommon, if not completely out of character, for the warrior.

Then he glanced down at their hands, intertwined as they were, and Zora realized that he hadn't even registered that he had been holding her hand this whole time. He let it go quickly, as if it were a serpent ready to strike him, and gathered up the reins in both his hands, now. He cleared his throat but said nothing.

Quietly, Zora sighed. Not only was she marching towards her inevitable death (right?), but to make matters worse… Loki.

What was she going to do about Loki?


	4. Chapter 4

**PART FOUR**

The rift to Vanaheim was hidden, of all places, beneath the tresses of two ancient willow trees – or whatever the Asgardian equivalent of willow trees were, considering they were almost twice as big as the Midgardian species and their long, spindly branches grew leaves that winked gold and silver under the midday sun. To Zora, it looked like somewhere Tinkerbell might call home. To everyone else, however, - excluding Jane, probably – the sight was clearly pedestrian.

"You're sure it is here, brother?" Thor asked, peering between the two trees, his eyes squinted harshly as if by some stroke of luck, the rift itself would magically appear. Not that that was actually out of the question, really. Not to Zora, at least. For all she knew, the rift could, indeed, just magically appear.

It was, itself, magic, wasn't it?

Gods, her head was beginning to hurt from thinking in all these circles.

Loki gave his brother an icy glare. "Of course I'm sure," he snapped. "How else do you think I ever snuck away to visit Lady Arnia when she was still a maiden?"

Zora just blinked at the reference and turned to Thor, whose frown immediately morphed into a nostalgic grin. "Ah, yes. The Allfather was always so displeased that he couldn't discover your method. But here?"

"Yes, here," Loki snapped again. Ever since Fandral's remark earlier, and the subsequent conversation, Loki had been tense. Coiled taut like a rope about to snap. Zora wasn't completely sure why the trickster god metamorphized from haughty to angry, but it had happened, and they were all dealing with the consequences.

He swung off of Slepnir gracefully – more gracefully than Zora had ever thought possible of anyone – before turning and offering his hand to her. Ever the gentleman, it seemed. Well… for the most part.

Regardless, Zora had been humiliated enough at having to ride with him. Forgoing his gesture, she tried to mimic his dismount from the horse… and wound up catching one of her boots in a stirrup, sending herself sprawling backwards. Zora threw her arms out and braced herself for a hard fall, but it never came. Instead, two strong hands caught her at the waist, roughly, before gently lowering her to her feet.

She didn't even need to look up to know who her savior was. Gods damn it all.

Cheeks burning in further embarrassment, Zora grumbled a thank-you before turning to the saddlebags, intent to put that little mishap behind them without comment.

"Really, Agent Haque," Loki said in that smooth voice of his, because of course, the God of Mischief wouldn't let it go that easily, "I realize accepting chivalry is out of your nature, but being prudent is not."

Her hands stilled over the fastenings of the saddlebags. She rounded on him, a glare already on her face, only to find him grinning at her with genuine amusement. All that coldness, that anger, had quickly been replaced by a seemingly good-natured joke.

Zora's mouth opened, then snapped shut. He was being friendly with her again. Gods, she liked it better when he was mean. At least then, she knew how to handle him.

Canting her chin further in the air, Zora tried to salvage what little dignity she had left. "Yeah, well, for all I knew you'd have yanked me off the horse and let me fall to the dirt for a good laugh, anyway."

Apparently, she said something wrong. The brightness in his eyes dimmed. A frown marred his lips. "Yes, because, being the God of Mischief and Lies, I cannot do a single act of kindness. In fact, I was just pondering which nobleman's infant I should steal candy from. And perhaps after that, I'd finally decide which new realm I'd like to commit murder and mayhem on. All in a day's work for me, of course."

Zora blinked at the demi-god. Did he just… throw a bit of a tantrum? Seriously?

"Okay," she acquiesced at his irritated stare. "I get it. You aren't all tricks and lies twenty-four seven. Just… reduce the sass, all right? I could die today. Don't wanna go out feeling guilty for profiling you."

The mention of her more-than-likely imminent death deepened Loki's frown. He grew eerily serious. "You will not die on my watch, Zora Haque," he vowed, and Zora's belly fluttered at the somberness of it all. At the thought that, yes, she really _could_ die. "I swear it."

"I…" she was at a loss. Then she remembered the night before. The words the man so clearly needed to hear. "I believe you."

Fandral snorted rudely beside them – because apparently they had had an audience for quite some time now – and asked pointedly, "Is this little heart-to-heart over now, or should we prolong our journey further?"

Zora was about to lash out at the warrior with a snarky remark but was beat by Loki. "Oh, but it does bother you, doesn't it? Unless it can be fucked or otherwise used for your sheer entertainment, any interaction with women is well beyond your comprehension. You're boringly predictable, Fandral." To the rest of the group, as if he had not just thoroughly insulted one of Thor's closest friends, he said, "Leave the horses. We'll find others in Vanaheim, and I left word with Heimdall to send scouts to collect ours. They wouldn't make it through the fissure, anyway."

Volstagg repressed a laugh – apparently, it wasn't every day that Fandral turned the beet red color he was now – Hogun simply nodded, and Thor stared at his brother as if he were looking at a ghost. Regardless, only another half-second passed before everyone got moving, preparing to make the next step of their journey on foot.

As Zora was preparing her bag, she felt Jane hover over her uncertainly. "What was up with that?" the astrophysicist asked, brows pulled together and curious gaze on the trickster god, who was currently busy speaking to Thor. "I've never… seen him like that before."

Zora just shrugged. "Seen him like what?"

"Protective," Jane said, the word slipping from her lips as a surprise. "Very, _very_ protective. Over someone who wasn't himself."

Taking a sip of the water bladder she had packed, Zora tried hard not to let those words bother her. "I don't know, Jane. Does anyone really know why Loki does what he does?"

That seemed to be a good enough reply for the scientist. But it wasn't for Zora. Not really.

000

Traveling by portal was… unpleasant, in conservative terms. Zora had known it would be even before she stepped through the damned thing. As a matter of fact, her feet hadn't even wanted to step through it. Some part of her was uneasy at this point-of-no-return.

But Zora was connected to things, and it was time to face those things.

Loki, sensing her hesitance even as the others barged on ahead of them – Jane chittering excitedly about this phenomenon and that energy field, Thor smiling indulgently at her as they stepped through, shimmered momentarily, and disappeared – remained behind, his unreadable green eyes focused on her.

"I swore to you that you will be safe on my watch, War-Breaker," Loki said to her in a low voice, using her prophetic name for the first time. "This portal will do nothing more than perhaps leave you somewhat disoriented."

Zora watched as the others passed through the portal – first Fandral, then Vosltagg, and finally Hogun, who spared a glance over his shoulder at her before stepping forward and disappearing along with the others. She didn't like the way they just… blinked out of existence.

"You will be fine," Loki reassured, even going as far as to offer his hand to her for the second time that day. "I know you don't trust me, but at least trust Thor. He's already gone ahead. He would not have placed Jane's life in jeopardy if he sensed something was amiss."

The logic Loki was trying to offer her nearly broke her heart. The demi-god was actually trying to _comfort_ her. For a brief moment, she hated him for it. It made her world too complicated, too difficult, because the soft side he showed her and apparently only her made Zora like him. Actually like him.

And here he was, trying to comfort her, now. When he could clearly see she was distressed, whilst the others just marched on along, completely oblivious to her apprehension. That angered her even more. Thor had brought her here, had essentially told her she was needed to save Asgard, to slay the monster, to play hero… but it was Loki who had to help her keep the pieces of her sanity together. Thor was too busy looking starry-eyed at Jane.

Of course, rationally, she couldn't despise him for that. And she didn't. But it was irritating, nonetheless.

"It's not the portal that scares me," Zora finally confessed, glancing once more at the empty pocket of air where the supposed fissure was, before returning her eyes to the earnest-looking trickster god. "It's just… this is it, isn't it? There's no coming back from this point."

His lips folded into a thin line. "No," he said simply. No lies, no illusions, no crafted fairytales about how she would easily slay the she-demon and they could all merrily return to Asgard, unchanged. "There's no coming back from this point."

"Why did it have to be me?" she asked him, the universe, the Norns – whoever the fuck was listening, really – her tone taking on a plaintive hue. "Why me? Why not Nat or Cap or even Jane?"

Loki smiled gently at her. The way you would smile at a frightened child. The way you would console. "Because the Norns chose you."

"I still don't think I believe in your Norns."

"It matters not," he shrugged, the smile still in place. "Because for some great reason, Zora Haque, they believe in you. They have burdened you with this… glorious purpose."

Those words felt familiar to her for some reason, but Zora couldn't quite place it. Their weight settled on her shoulders, regardless.

Burdened with glorious purpose. What a way to put it.

"What if I fail?" she finally asked, ashamed of how quiet and small she sounded. Like a little girl, running from her nightmares.

Loki stepped forward and took her hand in his. It was pleasantly cool, as before. Reassuring. "You will not fail," he told her firmly. "You aren't destined to."

It didn't make things better, it really didn't, but it helped. Burdened with glorious purpose but destined to succeed.

Zora just didn't want to imagine what the price of that success might be.

000

At long last, Zora and Loki breached the portal, coming out the other side to meet the rest of their traveling party. Five pairs of eyes stared at the fallen prince and the former SHIELD agent curiously, clearly wondering what had taken them so long. When Zora caught Jane's eye, she nearly winced at the other woman's knowing look.

The portal itself had been uncomfortable, discomfiting even, but only for a short period of time before Loki led her by the hand out from it. Dizzy and unbalanced, she clung to his hand for support before finally gathering her senses.

Those five pairs of eyes now stared, in varying shades of plainness, at Loki and Zora's joined hands.

The pair stepped away from one another immediately. Zora hastily walked forward to get a better look at the landscape, trying to force the awkward moment behind her.

"Wow," she breathed, taking in the golden-silver mountains far off in the distance, the rolling forests, the pure and unadulterated nature splayed out before her. They had landed on the crest of a hill with a superb view of the realm, and Zora's breath was almost literally taken away.

She had doubted anything could be more beautiful than Asgard, but Vanaheim was definitely in close competition.

"Yes," Thor spoke, quiet, but proud. "Vanaheim is truly a sight to take it. Mother used to speak often, when Loki and I were children, of how she missed the dense forests, the tribesmen and women, her hikes up the mountain as a young girl."

Sneaking a peek at the trickster god, she found a similar nostalgic smile on his lips. For the first time ever, Zora could see something in the pair of brothers that aligned.

"How far must we travel?" Volstagg asked, taking a hearty swig of whatever liquid he had stashed in his own leather bladder. "Perhaps we could stop at a tavern along the way?" The hopefulness in his tone was not missed by anyone.

Loki rolled his eyes. "Even when the fate of Asgard is at stake, you still cannot take your mind off your stomach. Why am I not surprised?"

Of all people, it was Hogun who laughed. "Even staring certain death straight in the face, Volstagg could not help but wonder what he would have liked for his last meal."

Volstagg grunted unhappily. "I'll have you know it was not _certain death_. Possible death, that was all. If it had been certain, I would _be_ dead."

"Regardless," Fandral interjected with a smirk. "Hogun has a point."

"And we are not traveling by major thoroughfares," Loki cut in, getting back on topic. Volstagg visibly deflated at this. "As I said before, it is imperative that we remain unseen and unnoticed. But we shall make camp later this evening and perhaps, if your hunger does not slow you down, you can manage to hunt your own dinner."

"Make camp?" Thor asked uncertainly.

"Yes," Loki clipped. "The path through Vanaheim will take at least three days."

Silence. Ugh, Zora had _not_ brought enough clothing for this little adventure. Or food. Or water. It seemed, by the looks on everyone else's faces, that she was not the only one coming to this conclusion.

Loki huffed in annoyance and began marching forward, again towards some destination locked away inside his head. "I warned you all, but were you listening?" Gods, he could be so petulant, sometimes. "No. No one listens. No one ever listens."

Thor looked at Zora helplessly before placing his hand over Jane's lower back and urging her to follow behind Loki. The others followed suit, with Zora bringing up the rear.

000

By the time darkness fell in Vanaheim, the traveling party had managed to wade their way through the thick forests set out before them, staying far away from any large thoroughfares as Loki had advised, and cross a fair portion of land before Thor suggested they stop to rest for the evening.

She could see clearly why he was the one making the suggestion now, instead of Loki, who was eager to push on a little further. Thor's eyes were steadfast on Jane, who was visibly exhausted straight through to her bones. A frown tugged at Zora's lips as she watched the scientist gratefully accept a bladder of water as she rested on a nearby mossy trunk.

As the Warriors Three busied themselves by setting up the tents the party would use, Thor approached Zora while Loki paced, restless, behind her.

"Jane will need sustenance," he informed both of them, his eyes lingering a moment on Loki's tight expression before turning to Zora. "I will go hunt for supper. Would you care to join me?"

Zora almost laughed. "Thor, I've never hunted a day in my life. If anything, I'd scare the animals away."

"I beg to differ," he said kindly. "You are as light-footed as Loki. A natural born hunter, I am sure."

Zora opened her mouth to reject his offer again, but Thor's blue eyes hardened, conveying he had a reason for asking for her company. "Okay," she sighed, glancing back at Loki, who was still pacing, working something out inside his head. She turned back to Thor. "The others will be okay here without you?"

The thunderer nodded. "The Warriors Three are formidable in battle. Loki, himself, could fend off any creature without aid."

Loki's steps faltered at this unexpected compliment before resuming their maddening pace.

Zora glanced back at him once more, wondering what was eating him up. It was a question she'd have to save for later, because Thor was right: Jane needed food, and the others could surely use it as well.

000

They had only crept a half mile out of camp by the time Thor managed to collect three rabbits and some odd little creature he called a skirdja. Zora's suspicion of the thunderer and why he had requested her presence, of all people, grew tenfold. He hadn't needed help whatsoever hunting. She was literally slowing him down.

Still, she wisely said nothing and followed the prince as he crept further into the forest, reassuring her that Volstagg himself could eat twice the amount he had just gathered and would throw a fit if Thor returned with anything short of a feast.

It was only after Thor had expertly – and thankfully, humanely – killed a large stag that he gathered the creature up in his muscled arms and nodded that they could return to camp. And it was at this point that Thor finally decidedly to speak his mind.

Zora was carefully maneuvering herself over a massive fallen tree when the thunderer finally spoke up.

"I am no fool, Zora Haque," he said, completely unburdened by all the creatures he had insisted he carry himself, hopping over the fallen tree as if it were nothing more than a stick. "I know you have promised Loki something in return for his… cooperation. I want to know what vow you made."

Zora stopped short. Of course, she never once took Thor for a fool. He might have acted as if he were more brawn than brains on occasion, but it was easy to underestimate the first prince of Asgard. It seemed she was already guilty of doing so.

Straightening her spine, Zora channeled her inner trickster – not _too_ hard, considering she had been a SHIELD agent, after all – and shrugged as she faced the prince. "I told him that, if he wanted to redeem himself in the eyes of Asgard, this was his chance. That seemed to be enough motivation."

Even in the dim light, she could see Thor frown at her. "I do not fault you for lying to me, Zora. Especially after I kept your true nature hidden from you for so long. But I hope you will tell me the truth. As friends."

Okay, so, apparently her inner trickster needed some major practice.

Her breath left her in a long, weary exhale. Running her fingers through her hair, which had become somewhat tangled as they went about their journey, Zora smiled apologetically at the god. "Am I that bad of a liar?"

Thor returned a small smile. "Not half bad. But not as talented as Loki, and we have fought side by side for 1500 years, now."

Fifteen hundred years. Jesus Christ. Zora had a crush on a god who was _fifteen hundred_ years old?

She'd always been interested in older men, but… damn.

Thor cleared his throat. Of course, he hadn't missed the way she'd just internally flipped shit about Loki's age. The small smile on his lips grew. "I know he is fond of you," Thor said, much to her surprise. Loki was fond of her? "But he masks his emotions too well. You must have offered him something very valuable for him to be so proactive about this journey."

"Y'know something, Thor? I don't think your brother gives you enough credit."

Thor chuckled. "No. He does not. But by no fault of his own. I have been brash and badly-tempered for centuries, Lady Zora. He does not think one such as I could so easily change." Then he gave her a pointed look. "But you are stalling. Tell me what you've promised him."

Her hands fidgeted at her sides. "I want to be honest with you, Thor, but I've probably broken about a hundred Asgardian – _and_ Midgardian – laws by what I promised." Laws that Thor was meant to uphold. And she had made a promise to Loki – a promise she had never intended to break. She didn't want to be forced to break it.

To her surprise, Thor simply nodded. "I assumed as much. And I will not stop you, Lady Zora. I don't want to lose my brother again. If there is something I can do to help, I gladly will."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Even if I maybe, sorta, kinda promised that I would break him out of Asgardian custody and take him wherever he wanted to go… so he could be free?"

Thor's brow furrowed at the information. He remained silent for a few beats, the creatures he had collected shifting on his shoulders, before blue eyes found Zora again… amused. "Yes," he concluded. "Even if you promised him that."

Christ, Loki didn't realize what a good brother he had. But maybe, in time, he would.

"You don't hate me for it?"

Thor laughed, moving forward once more, towards their camp, while Zora trailed behind him. "How could I? You are the only other soul in the universe, other than Frigga herself, who sees any good left in Loki. I will aid you in this, Zora Haque. After all, as Midgardians are fond of saying, I will owe you."

For saving Asgard. Well, she never actually thought anyone would owe her something for that. She was just doing what destiny was forcing her to do, wasn't she?

Still, she would take all the help she could get. Part of her knew that, when the time came for her to make good on her promise to Loki, she would need a fucking miracle for the two of them not to be discovered.

000

After the small band of warriors ate and drank what little mead they had brought with them, most retired to their respective tents for the night. Jane had lingered outside a little longer than Zora had expected of her, but the scientist was staring up at Vanaheim's stars with childlike glee, even though exhaustion pulled at her bones. It was only after Thor had ushered his beloved to get some sleep that Zora was left alone in front of the small fire they had started.

Alone with Loki. Loki, her apparent tent-mate for the rest of the journey, because _no_ , she was not willing to share the two-person tent with Fandral. Loki, the god who, as she had to repeatedly remind herself, had taken her hostage after he'd invaded her world… though had, admittedly, treated her well. Up until that midnight execution, of course… That he seemed relieved he didn't have to go through with. Loki, the impossible enigma shrouded in lies and intrigue and mystery, the man – _god_ , she corrected herself – who was slowly managing to grow on her.

Loki, who was staring, hard, into the fire that sat between them, his dark brows furrowed, his jaw tense. He hadn't even acknowledged her presence. Hadn't joined in on the conversation over dinner. Had merely sat, same as where he was now, and stared down into that fire, lost in his own mind.

Zora wasn't necessarily complaining. The god was always so preternaturally aware of his surroundings that it was almost impossible to catch him off guard or to study him candidly. In this moment, as darkness gathered around him and the fire glittered in his vibrant green eyes and he was ignorant of her probing gaze, Zora could honestly say that the trickster god was beautiful. A beauty different than Thor's, true, but different in all the right ways. His flawless ivory skin practically glowed against Vanaheim's shadows, his striking green eyes held a vitality unrivaled, and his inky black hair… _gods_. Gods or Norns or the fates, whoever, have mercy on Zora Haque's soul.

She was openly admitting to herself that the God of Mischief and Lies was handsome. Beyond handsome. Gorgeous.

One minute could have passed like this or twenty – him, staring unseeing down into the fire, her staring in a mixture of awe, dread, and resignation at his profile. And time might have continued to pass on that way, had Loki's penetrating gaze not finally lifted from the flames and landed on Zora. She was surprised enough that she nearly toppled off the felled tree Thor had placed near the fire earlier.

"Why did you do that?" he demanded of her, his smooth-as-silk voice taking on a dark hue while he stared at her, unrelenting.

Zora's face immediately felt blazing hot, and not because of the fire that sat before her. Had he caught her staring – saw the emotions play out within her eyes? Fuck. "What?"

His gaze was no less challenging. "Earlier," he bit out. "You told Fandral that you far preferred my company. Why tell such a blatant lie, or if not, such a damning truth? Thor's friends despise me. They would soon despise you, too, should they know you don't share in their indiscriminate hatred."

 _Oh, thank the Norns_. So he hadn't caught her staring. Or had and wasn't going to mention it. Something else entirely was eating at him.

Playing with a piece of her obsidian-colored armor to avoid his probing gaze, Zora just shrugged. "I told him that because it was the truth."

There was a long pause, such a long pause that Zora finally glanced up to see if perhaps the demi-god had teleported himself elsewhere. But no – he was still there. His vibrant green eyes were unreadable, but steely. "A damning truth," he reiterated his earlier words. "Though I suppose it is not too surprising. Any lady with an ounce of intellect would much prefer a bloodthirsty bilgesnipe over Fandral's insufferable presence."

And there it was again – that self-loathing. The rare moment of vulnerability in Loki that revealed he likely hated himself far more than everyone else did. It made Zora feel sick. Disgusted at Thor's friends. Disappointed, even, in Thor, who was clearly trying to make up for his past transgressions, but utterly failing. Loki's insecurities ran too deep for a few good deeds and kind words to heal.

"Have you ever thought that maybe I just prefer your company to his because I actually enjoy being around you?" The sadness on his face, the self-hatred, was something Zora knew all too well, herself. Not being accepted by people you so desperately wanted to be accepted by, not having a place you belong… she understood his pain, on some level.

Marble green eyes turned back on her again. His genuine confusion, which quickly morphed into bitter amusement, hurt to see. "I know you jest. It's impossible for me to fathom that you've been in such terrible company that you would prefer mine to anyone's."

Her own self-doubt began to surface. Zora tried hard to forget that she was often just as lost and confused as Loki, himself, was. Maybe even more so. "You don't know anything about the company I keep."

He snorted. "You mean the self-titled Avengers? I believe I know enough. Your realm adores them as much as mine adores Thor. It's pitiful."

"I'm not talking about them," Zora muttered, her own green eyes finding the fire, now. The Avengers were one thing, yes. They were a positive influence in her life, a godsend, a life-preserver, even. But Zora grew up around spies and assassins and soldiers – and not the kind that became world-saving Avengers. Not that kind, at all.

"You are a curious creature," Loki half-stated, half-questioned. Zora glanced up and found his eyes pinned to hers. But luckily he seemed to understand on some deeper level not to pry. Not to ask questions that would cut open old wounds. "But I would remind you of how I invaded your realm without remorse for the dead or dying. How I dragged you from your friends and held you captive in your own home. And how, in the dead of night, I pulled you from your slumber and nearly led you to your death."

At the unpleasant reminder and its accompanying images, Zora glared at him. "Trust me, I remember." And then she did something that the God of Lies clearly did not expect. She grinned. "But I would remind _you_ of how your eyes were a curious, icy blue. And now, as you sit before me, they are undeniably green."

She stood, deciding now was as good a time as any to call it a night. "We all have secrets, Loki. Sometimes… we keep them hidden because we're afraid others won't see the good in us anymore." Her voice broke on that last word, but she pushed on, determined to make her point. All the while, he stared, captivated, broken. "And sometimes, we keep them because we're afraid that, despite the truth, others still won't see the good in us, no matter what."

He didn't speak and she didn't push him to.

The smile she offered him was small and watery. "Goodnight."

000

Loki watched Zora Haque duck into their tent, a deep frown marring his thin lips.

He despised the way she so easily saw through him. He despised her kindness. He despised the Norns who had created her and the younger, purer version of himself who had, for so long, desired her. Even before knowing her, he had desired the love of the War-Breaker, the woman who would save Asgard, the would-be monster-slayer, the savior, the honorable.

He had desired her for so long that, as a child, he had held himself to a standard he thought his imaginary War-Breaker would find noble and attractive. He had shied away from Thor's promiscuous habits, from Fandral's constant goading that had eventually turned into mocking, from lifestyles he found deplorable and disgusting, unbecoming for someone who should be worthy of a savior's love.

Norns, he despised her. Because she was everything he could have hoped for and more. Because she wasn't drawn into Thor's embrace, enchanted by his archetypal Aesir looks, his brawn, his banter and easy presence, but because she had just openly admitted to enjoying Loki's presence, even if it was just over Fandral's. Because she could somehow, even impossibly, seem to actually forgive him for the sins he had committed on Midgard. For nearly executing her while he had been under Thanos' control, despite not even knowing he had been under the Titan's influence.

Because she could somehow sense that the Loki who had wreaked havoc on her realm and nearly slaughtered her in her own home was not the same Loki who sat before her. Something his own father had overlooked.

He despised the beautiful tune that the trinket sang for him as she crept away from him, into the darkness of the tent he was assigned to share with her, as if that was not also impossible.

He despised everything about the War-Breaker known as Zora Haque because it would be so, so easy… to actually like her. To love her, even.

000

The day did not start off like any other. For one, Zora woke to the foreign chirping of various species of birds she had no name for, on a realm she had only just learned she existed, on a mission said to be her destiny. For another, as soon as she blinked her eyes open, she recalled her conversation with Loki the night prior, and pinched her eyes back shut with a cringe.

Gods, had she really been… _sweet_ … to him?

And the trickster hadn't said anything in reply. He hadn't said anything at all. As she glanced around their supposedly shared tent, she found him nowhere to be seen. Furthermore, there was no sign that he'd ever even entered the tent and had slept. So, maybe, she'd been too forthcoming of what she thought of him and scared the bastard away.

Was it possible for anything to go right? Anything at all?

A rustle at Zora's tent opening had her darting upright, the sad excuse for a weapon she had brought – her karambit dagger – clenched tight in her fist.

Sunlight wavered around Jane's visage as she popped her head in the tent. It took the astrophysicist a second to realize she had almost been stabbed by a curved blade.

"Really?" Jane asked, as if her morning was already going poorly. Just like Zora's. "Does _everyone_ sleep with a weapon? Fandral nearly stabbed me in the eye just a second ago. Thor was right – I _won't_ survive this journey."

Zora slowly lowered her dagger and rolled her eyes. "I see Loki's sense of melodrama has started to wear off on you," she muttered, combing her fingers through her hair in an effort to make it look at least somewhat passable.

Jane scoffed. "Please. As if I could pull off emo-goth-hipster vibe as well as he could."

Tilting her head to the side, Zora grinned, however bemusedly, up at the scientist. "Uhh… emo-goth-hipster vibe?"

"Darcy's words, not mine."

"Ah."

"Anyway," Jane said, clapping her hands together. "Breakfast is ready. Loki's been muttering about leaving soon, so you might wanna get up and eat while you can."

Great, Zora thought to herself as Jane disappeared back outside. Loki probably wasn't in a good mood right now either.

000

Zora steadfastly avoided eye-contact with the demi-god, choosing instead to sit next to Hogun on the massive tree trunk slash makeshift bench, grateful for the man's quiet company. Jane was chittering about a star chart she had mapped early that morning, Thor was helping correct some of her sketches, and the other two thirds of the Warriors Three were chowing down on the rabbit-like creature Thor had cooked for their morning meal.

Loki, of course, was pacing a short distance away. When he glanced at her, deep green eyes meeting Zora's light green eyes, she immediately looked away. No way in hell was she dealing with whatever the consequence of her loose lips was right now.

Less than thirty minutes later, the traveling party had doused their fire, dismantled their tents, and began their trek on foot once more, trailing behind a long-strided Loki.

After about an hour's walk, Jane sidled up to Zora, a sparkle in her eyes. "Okay, what gives?"

Zora stared at the scientist in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You and Loki. Yesterday you guys were all buddy-buddy – I mean, he couldn't stop holding your hand. Which is a big fucking deal, because _Loki_. And today you two haven't said a single word to one another. So. What gives?"

Zora frowned and gestured for Jane to keep her voice down. Gods, she didn't want to deal with this. There was only so much one woman could handle at once. Being the daughter of a foreign realm's prophecy and having a crush on said foreign realm's second prince was definitely too much to deal with all at once.

So Zora lied. "Nothing," she shrugged. "Like you said. He's _Loki_. He does what he wants, which means he gets moody when he wants."

Jane's eyes twinkled, as if Zora had just said something Jane wanted her to say. "Thor told me you'd say something like that."

Zora nearly drew up short, but for fear of being left behind or yelled at, kept walking. "I'm sorry – Thor told you _what_?"

Yeah, Loki definitely underestimated his brother. A _lot_.

"Thor said that you two are ignoring each other because something must've happened last night." Now Jane shrugged, as if this was the most natural thing in the world to say. "Guess he was right." Just as the scientist made to walk back towards Thor, Zora stopped her.

"Nothing happened between me and Loki," Zora stated firmly, looking deep into Jane's eyes to prove that she wasn't lying. Well, not _really_ lying. Nothing had happened between her and Loki in the sense that nothing _romantic_ happened. Which was clearly what Thor had implied.

Jane just smiled back at Zora and patted her arm piteously. "Okay, Z." Then she stepped away, leaving Zora to stare after her helplessly.

She didn't have much more time to think about her predicament, however. Because a few short moments later, as the party of seven walked into a clearing shaped like a semi-circle, Loki halted his steps so quickly that he had to throw his arms out to balance his weight.

The others drew up short behind him, alert, eyes scanning the forests.

"Arm yourselves," Loki said suddenly, his voice tight, as two daggers materialized in his hands. "We are not alone."

000

He had been too busy listening to Jane and Zora discuss how 'nothing had happened' between himself and the War-Breaker the night before to notice the foreign presence, at first. Of course, he felt like an absolute fool. It was an amateur's mistake. One that shouldn't have been made in the first place. Had he been able to tear his thoughts away from the long legged, green eyed woman of his dreams for more than a second, he would have realized they were being stalked.

At last, upon breaching the small clearing, Loki sensed a powerful magic nearby. After telling the others to arm themselves, he stood in front of them, daggers clenched tight in his hands, and sent out feelers for the source of the magic.

When he realized who was stalking them by the nature of their magic, he drew out a long sigh and relaxed his pose. "Of course," Loki muttered to himself, "it would be him."

"Are you not happy to see me, cousin?" a deep, lilted voice asked cheerily from the outskirts of the clearing, grating Loki's nerves. Norns, he already had to deal with Thor and the Warriors Three. Now this?

A figure detached itself from the shadows and entered the clearing. Prince Bjorn of Vanaheim, Loki's first cousin, though they weren't related by blood, stepped into the sunlight, his grin light and airy, his skin almost crystal-like under the sun's rays. Long white-blond hair was pulled back into an intricate braid at the nape of the elf's neck with a bilgesnipe's feather tied into one lock, and as if to further accentuate Bjorn's fairer looks, he wore pearl-white armor that remained silent even as he walked towards the Aesir and the mortals.

Thor immediately stepped out from behind Loki, a relieved grin plastered on his face. "Cousin!" He greeted the Vanir prince with a clap to the shoulder, one that had Bjorn's teeth rattling in his head, before he stepped back and watched as others stepped forth from their positions in the forest's dense shadows. "How did you know where to find us?"

As Bjorn's warriors, five in total, lined up behind him, each wearing a similar pearl-colored armor, the Vanir prince smiled and shrugged. "Father dreamed of your arrival. He sent me to intercept you, for in his dream, you were without horses or a proper meal." Then Bjorn's pale-grey eyes landed on the Warriors Three. "Ah, Volstagg!" He approached the red-headed Aesir quickly, exchanging more claps on the shoulder, turning to Hogun and Fandral next. "It has been too long, my friends."

When the prince's eyes fell next to the pair of very confused mortal women, Thor stepped forward, half-protective and half-apologetic. "Before I forget my manners further, let me introduce you," Thor said, much to Loki's irritation. Norns, Thor and Bjorn were so alike in some ways that it was disgusting. So much posturing.

Carefully holding Jane's hand and presenting her to Bjorn, Thor said, "This is my beloved, Jane Foster of Midgard. She is a renowned woman of science where she hails from, and the sole object of my affections."

 _Laying it on a bit thick, much_? Loki thought to himself, arms crossed over his chest. What Thor was trying to convey was clear to pretty much everyone except Jane: _this is mine_. Ugh. So childish.

"Lady Jane," Bjorn said, accepting Jane's hand and giving it a chaste and innocent kiss. "It is truly a pleasure to meet you. Any woman capable of catching Thor's eye is a worthy one." He released her hand and stepped back to assess the other mortal – or non-mortal, really.

Zora stepped forward, clearly needing no ushering of her own. She smiled up at Bjorn, who stood a good foot taller than her, though several inches shorter than Loki, and offered her hand to shake. As she did, Loki had to try, with more than a little difficulty, to ignore the loud, symphonic-like ringing from the trinket in his pocket and listen to what she had to say.

"I'm Zora Haque. Of Midgard," Zora added hastily, clearly trying out the Asgardian's custom of introduction. "I don't have any fancy titles like Jane does, sadly."

"Not true," Fandral, of all people, spoke up with a smile. "Zora is the daughter of the prophecy. The War-Breaker, herself."

For a fraction of a second, Bjorn's eyes widened as he took Zora in. Her obsidian armor stood in such a stark contrast to Bjorn's that it was nearly laughable, but clearly Loki's cousin did not find this problematic or contradictory whatsoever. In fact, as Bjorn finally took Zora's proffered hand, the light elf turned it in his own and kissed the back of it, lingering several seconds too long to be considered proper, while batting his near-white eyelashes up at Zora.

"Lady Zora, War-Breaker," Bjorn said, his tone morphing into one of reverence. "It is truly an honor to make your acquaintance."

Loki nearly rolled his eyes again, but then he realized that Zora was blushing. Actually blushing. Her cheeks, usually the loveliest shade of ivory, were tinted pink, and her pupils were slightly dilated as she smiled at Bjorn.

By the Norns, could he not catch a break?

"It's nice to meet you, too, your highness," Zora said, bowing her head slightly. Loki would have laughed at her obvious uncertainty of how to interact with royals had he not felt a terrible desire to step forward and put himself between the pair.

He had to forcibly plant his feet where they were to keep himself from doing exactly that.

"Please, I insist you call me by name," Bjorn told her. "What is a prince next to a savior of Yggdrasil?" As if to make his point, Bjorn bowed to her – something Loki would have thought unthinkable, bordering on completely mad – and grinned, if a bit shyly. "I am humbly your servant."

A silence grew thick in the small clearing. Bjorn's own warriors were clearly jolted at the sight of their prince and future king bowing to anyone who was not his king, as was Thor, although Thor was clearly gladdened by the sight rather than stumped. Jane, too, was wearing a smile of her own, but when she locked eyes with Loki, the trickster suddenly felt even more foolish than he had earlier, when he had failed to pick up on the additional presences.

Jane clearly took too much amusement from their current situation. Amusement that was obviously tied to Loki.

His fists clenched at his sides. He prayed to the Norns that Bjorn and his men would take their leave, and that Loki and the others could once more be on their way.

Although Bjorn's eyes were still transfixed on Zora, he offered to the group, "I insist you all ride back to the palace with my men and I for the night." Finally, his gaze shifted to Loki, then Thor. "We have a feast prepared to celebrate your health and rooms ready for you to rest in. You can restock and take horses in the morning to continue your journey."

Thor nodded along. "That is generous of you, cousin."

Loki, on the other hand, glared. "Generous, but useless. We must continue on _now_." He looked around at the others, reading disappointment and uncertainty in their eyes. "The fate of Asgard and the other realms rests on our ability to defeat the she-beast in a timely manner. Not waste what precious little time we have on feasts and revelry."

Bjorn, however, was unbothered by Loki's caustic tone. "I understand your worries, cousin, but continuing on a perilous journey such as yours requires more preparation that you've carried out. Sparing an evening to ensure you have everything necessary to succeed is surely worth your time?"

Loki stared down his cousin. Any other being would have withered under the trickster's dark eyes, but not Bjorn. Bjorn returned his look with ease, just as he always had when they were children. It made Loki's blood boil.

Zora was the next to plead Bjorn's case, though it was difficult for her to meet Loki's eyes, for reasons very different than he was used to. She was undoubtably regretting the kind words she had spoken to him the night before, if her temperament towards him for the earlier half of the day was any evidence. His stomach coiled up, like a snake preparing to defend itself from attack.

The fact that she would speak on his cousin's behalf, without knowing the spineless prince for a whole five minutes, nearly sent Loki over the edge. Was it so easy for her to change her mind – to decide that someone else's presence was truly more pleasurable to be in than Loki's?

Of course it was. No one enjoyed his presence, save for his oafish brother and dear Frigga. And no one else ever would.

"We can at least get more supplies," Zora told Loki, as if this was the most logical thing in the world, as if she did not see the way his cousin stared at her with unbridled desire and reverence. "And horses, to quicken our pace. We'll more than make up for any time lost, after that. If that's what's bothering you."

 _No,_ he wanted to say. _I want to tear my cousin's eyes from their sockets for looking at you the way he is. I want to slaughter his men for not dropping to their knees in worship and gratitude. I want to keep moving so I might have you to myself, again, if only for a few brief moments_. But of course Loki had impeccable self-control, and beyond that, self-preservation. His true thoughts would only push the woman further away.

Still, even as his general dislike for Bjorn grew to full-blown hatred in that moment, even as he wanted to keep the non-mortal away from his cousin as much as possible, Loki found he could not deny her.

It was disgusting and weak and he was completely powerless to stop it. Because, as Bjorn had so poetically said… Loki was humbly Zora's servant. Last night, whether she regretted what she said or not, only cemented that notion further.

"Fine," he grit out at last. The others cheered at his concession. "But we leave at dawn."

000

After Loki had begrudgingly agreed to Bjorn's generous offer, Zora couldn't help but notice that the light elf prince would, on occasion, stare first at her hands before his gaze trailed over to rest on Loki's.

It occurred at least three times in short span of time it took for Bjorn's men to round up their horses and pack some of the Warrior's Three gear into various saddlebags. Whenever she caught the prince doing this odd thing, he would glance up at her, seemingly surprised at her attention, before smiling gently, sweetly, kindly.

Zora had prayed to the fates or the gods or the Norns earlier for mercy, but this man – light elf, whatever – before her was _not_ a merciful product of a desperate prayer. Instead, she was faced with a gorgeous and charming prince who seemed to think the world of her, even though they had only just met.

It was like a fucking fairytale come to life. What the fuck.

Loki hovered near her the entire time. Just when she thought the dark-haired god was off doing something else, she would turn and find him mere feet away, his eyes trained on her or Bjorn, green irises almost swirling with irritation. It didn't take a genius to figure out what Loki's problem was: he couldn't stand his cousin. Moreover, he didn't want any further delays on their mission. But if Zora had learned anything during her time in the military, then as an agent of SHIELD, it was that delays were inevitable. It was how one dealt with those delays that defined the outcome of the mission. In this case, going back to the Vanir palace could only benefit the traveling party. Because no one had properly heeded Loki's warnings, not a single one of them had brought enough clothing, food, or water for the mission. Not to mention the horses. The horses would get them to the next rift even faster.

Zora was shaken from this thought when the white-haired elf stepped into her line of sight. "My lady," he said kindly, and Zora blinked a moment to register that he had called her _my lady_ and not _Lady Zora_. She'd have to remember to ask Jane what the differences meant. "We are prepared to ride back to the palace, now. We don't have enough horses to transport everyone separately, so my men have already partnered with your group. Would you do me the honor of riding with me?"

Gods, did he have to have such a beautiful voice? Or such a genuine smile? Sure, she could tell the man – light elf, she reminded herself once more – was a flirt. Maybe not as much as Thor used to be, and certainly not to the extent that Fandral was. But there was more to the prince than that. Or maybe she was fooling herself into thinking that. She didn't know him, after all.

Bjorn cleared his throat kindly. With some embarrassment, Zora realized she'd been staring at him and hadn't answered. "Of course," she said, whilst noticing a dark figure looming on the peripherals of her vision. "It would be _my_ honor."

The prince smiled at her. _Shyly_. She would never have described the elf as cute – sexy, yes, but cute? – but in that moment, he was. "You are too kind." Then his gaze flickered over her shoulder briefly and his eyes crinkled in amusement. "After you finish speaking with my cousin, come find me. We shall ride off as soon as we can."

Zora didn't have to ask what the elf meant. Loki, of course, was the figure looming behind her. She nearly jumped a foot in the air when she turned around and found him nearly face-to-face with her – well, face-to-chest, really, since she was over a foot shorter than the god. Despite being turned towards her, Loki's eyes trailed after Bjorn, electric and stormy.

"I'm sure I don't have to remind you that the fate of Asgard and every other realm in Yggdrasil rests on your ability to slay Hela," he said, stony expression turning on her.

Zora bit her tongue to keep from retorting right away. Her hot-headedness got her in trouble more often than not. "No," she said after she had collected herself. "You don't."

"Good." Then he brushed past her, his shoulder just barely grazing hers, and started off towards some female warrior waiting for him by her steed.

Zora watched him go for a just a moment. He was worried she wouldn't be able to keep the promise she made him, but Zora always kept her promises. She would do everything she could to keep this one, too. Because, despite her best efforts… she was increasingly growing fond of the trickster god.

000

Déjà vu hit Zora like a sack of bricks as Bjorn gently pulled her up onto his steed behind him. Wasn't it just a day or two before that Loki had done the same? She had felt just as uneasy about the ordeal then, but at least she _knew_ Loki, on some level. Bjorn was a complete stranger to her. A gorgeous, smooth-talking stranger, yes… but a stranger all the same.

When he took her hands and settled them around his waist, pulling her flush against his back and his beautiful armor, Zora's skin flushed a deep red. Gods, did she have a type? An affinity for handsome, witty alien-princes that could never be hers, no matter what?

"Are you well, Lady Zora?" Bjorn asked her as the group of warriors set out, entering the dense forest once more on their way to the palace. "You seem trapped within your head."

Ugh, and he had to be a conscientious and astute gentleman, too. Zora thought, as loudly as she could, a big _fuck you_ to the stupid Norns.

"I'm fine," she reassured him. "There's just been a lot to take in."

Beside them trotted Thor and Jane on a steel gray horse. It seemed that being the crown prince to another realm earned Thor his own transportation. "Yes," Thor added, with some shame. "I'm afraid I did not give Lady Zora much time to come to terms with her true self, cousin."

Bjorn glanced at her, surprised, over his shoulder. "You mean to say that you did not know of your destiny?"

"No," Zora replied in a clipped tone, which she hoped relayed to everyone how much she did not want to have this conversation again. "I did not."

The Vanir prince wisely did not comment. Sensing Zora's growing tension, he smiled back at her before nodding to Thor. "Cousin. How about a good-natured race to the palace? We can see if I'm still the better rider like I was in our youth."

Thor scoffed, but he couldn't hide his nostalgic grin. "The better rider? I remember you were quite adept at cheating, more than anything. You always chose the wildest steed you could find."

Bjorn's smile was seriously a sight to behold. "A habit I have yet to break." Then he flicked his reigns, jolting his steed into a sprint, and shouted back at Thor, "Last to the palace owes the winner a prize!"

Zora nearly shrieked as she and Bjorn were propelled forward, his cream-colored horse launching itself expertly through the forest's thick trees. Her grip around his waist tightened and she felt a rush of euphoria enter her bloodstream, as if she were a kid on a rollercoaster again. And honestly, this wasn't too different, was it? These horses moved far faster than their Midgardian counterparts. For several moments, Zora thought that the steed's hooves didn't even touch the ground.

By the time they reached the massive gates to the palace almost half-an-hour later, Zora was grinning from ear to ear, all tension that had been gathering in her belly dispelled. Bjorn came to a halt within the palace walls, near a stablemaster, and swung from his horse to the ground before taking Zora's hand and helping her down. They grinned at one another and Zora could honestly say she felt _happy_.

Thor and Jane appeared at that moment, with Thor's face screwed up in consternation and defeat and Jane laughing behind him.

"I told you that wasn't a shortcut!" Jane said, accepting the thunderer's help off the horse.

Thor just grunted. "It _looked_ like a shortcut."

Bjorn clapped his cousin on the back comfortingly. "You must have known you wouldn't win, cousin. You never have!"

Thor rolled his eyes but took the barb with a small smile. "Fine, fine. Tell me, what will your prize be?"

Bjorn's eyes resettled on Zora. Her stomach nearly dropped to her toes, because gods no, no one had ever looked at her like that before. Like she was holy and divine and someone to worship. "Permission to escort Lady Zora to the feast this evening?"

He asked the question as if he knew he would be denied but wanted to try anyway.

Thor looked between Bjorn and Zora, then back towards the palace gates, through which Loki had just entered with a _deep_ frown settled on his face. He was brushing imaginary dust from his armor as he approached the group, his glare settling first on Bjorn, then his brother.

Before Loki could speak, Thor simply shrugged at Bjorn. "Tis not my right to grant such permission. You will have to ask Lady Zora herself. Only she can give away such an honor."

Jane smiled up at him adoringly, and Zora could not blame her one bit. Thor was essentially perfect.

"My apologies," Bjorn said, ducking his head shyly once more. He stepped towards Zora as if he were approaching an altar, and, in a bow, asked, "My lady. Would you allow me to escort you this evening to supper?"

Before Zora could fully wonder at what alternate reality she had stepped into for a handsome prince to even ask that of her, Loki stepped forward, a snarl on his lips. Zora blinked up at him in surprise.

"Cousin," he grit out, as if it pained him to even address Bjorn as such. "The lady should take this night for rest – not for one of your soirees. She has much to do."

Even Zora could tell that the God of Lies was not on top of his lying game at the moment. Clearly something else was bothering him, but Zora was helpless to name what.

Bjorn fixed Loki with a steady look. She had seen him do this twice already – as if he understood Loki better than most, and he would not flinch at the trickster god's acidic remarks. "I have already made the mistake of asking another for the lady's permission, Loki. I will not do so again. Lady Zora is perfectly capable of making her own decisions." He turned his grey eyes on her again, though now they were somber. "And rejecting my offer, if she so chooses, is something I would respect."

Shit. Now all eyes were on her. Zora _hated_ the attention. But the prospect of spending the rest of her evening alone in some room in a palace she was unfamiliar with was not very appealing. "I would be happy for you to escort me," she told the light elf, small smile playing at her lips.

Loki muttered a string of curses and stomped away.

Bjorn, on the other hand, bowed to Zora again, his eyes bright and happy. "As the lady says."

000

Had Zora known that attending the feast meant she had to don a beautiful Vanir dress, she would have said no in a heartbeat. Because the aforementioned Vanir dress was almost _impossible_ to put on.

She tried tugging it over her head but immediately stopped when she sensed that the seams didn't like that movement. Then she tried shimmying herself into it, also to no avail. Another three attempts to put the damned thing on were met with equal failure. Zora growled in frustration.

When she glanced back up in the mirror to give herself a pep talk, she had to muffle a scream.

Behind her stood Loki, tall and dark and imposing, a glower in his eyes and a frown on his lips. His arms were crossed over his armored chest and he stared at her, unimpressed.

And Zora was very nearly _naked_ , thank you very much. She had at least managed to put on some strange species of a corset and matching stockings which were apparently Vanaheim's only form of underclothes… and Loki was just staring at her.

Jesus fuck, why did fate hate her so much?

"Excuse me!" She turned around, shielding herself from his view by holding the dress against her body… before realizing that he was probably getting an eyeful of her ass in the mirror, if his flicker towards the thing was any indication. She stepped away from the mirror, still holding the dress over herself. "Couldn't you have knocked like a normal fucking person?"

Loki cocked an eyebrow. "I'm not a normal person," he said as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. And, well, it sorta was. "And as I passed by your door, I heard a struggle. Though I did not expect it would be with an inanimate object, of all things."

Zora glared at him. "Laugh all you want, but this _inanimate object_ is going to be the death of me."

Loki rolled his eyes. With a flourish of his hands, the dress disappeared from her hold and was suddenly on her body, perfectly done up and clinging wonderfully to her skin.

Staring down at herself with a slack jaw, she ran her fingers over the strange gauzy fabric, surprised that Loki had turned the gold-colored dress into a deep emerald. As if to explain this change, Loki merely said, "Gold does not suit you nearly as well as green."

Zora lifted her chin to stare at him once more, but he was already gone.

 _Gods fucking fuck_. That man was so confusing.

000

Zora was completely out of her element and unsure what the fuck she was supposed to be doing. After Loki had so unceremoniously helped her with the dress, which already went beyond her embarrassment threshold for the night, she had meandered through the winding palace halls and finally found herself at the banquet.

But she couldn't find Bjorn anywhere. Which made her feel like a fucking fool, because she had agreed to let him escort her, or be her date, or whatever the hell that meant. So she wandered around the massive white-marbled banquet hall alone, trying very hard to ignore the gawking and staring of the Vanir she passed by, whilst wishing that someone would swoop in and save her from further embarrassment.

That someone, of course, turned out to be Loki.

"Lost?"

Just one syllable and she knew it was him. She would _always_ know that voice. It was so velvety and smooth and… and gods. It was _annoying_. It was so annoying.

Spinning on her heel, Zora found herself face-to-face with the demi-god. She hoped her relief at seeing him wasn't too evident in her expression. "No," she lied. "I'm just… exploring."

He grinned at her, tasting the lie as soon as it passed her lips. "Is that so? I can leave you to it, then."

He turned to leave and Zora hated herself for grabbing his arm and pulling him to a stop. She did _not_ want to be left alone in a crowd of strangers on a foreign realm. "Uh, no, it's fine… Actually, have you seen your cousin?"

Loki's green eyes danced with mirth. "You mean your escort for the evening? No, I have not."

"Lady Zora?" Thor asked, gliding up to her and Loki with Jane on his arm. His brow was furrowed and he looked about their immediate vicinity for someone else. "Has Bjorn been called away?"

Now Zora was confused. "What?"

"Bjorn," Thor restated, as if she couldn't recall the name of the light elf prince who had asked to accompany her. "He should be with you. It isn't proper for him to have asked for the honor to escort you, yet leave you alone."

Beside her, Loki was snickering. Zora glared at him askance. "What did you do to him?"

His snicker was easily replaced by an innocent scoff. "Me? Why would I have done something to him?"

Thor, too, crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at his brother. "Loki. I swear, if you have harmed him in any way – "

Loki rolled his eyes. "Ugh, you are all so _boring_." Then he gave a wave of his hand. Bright green magic swirled around his palm before winking out of existence.

Jane voiced Zora's unasked question. "What was that?"

"That," Loki answered in a long-suffering manner, "was me relinquishing my only form of entertainment for the evening." He gave Zora a pointed look. "You're welcome."

Just moments later, a harried looking Bjorn nearly ran into the banquet hall, his entrance obvious to all in the room. Zora watched as the young prince scanned the room, his pale grey eyes searching from one end to the other, before landing on her. The crowd parted ways as he crossed towards her, and the elf didn't even bother to glance at anyone else. It was in this moment that Zora understood the true meaning of the trashy romance novel phrase _"he had eyes only for her"_. She could read in the light-elf's face his desperation, his fear, as he approached her, not evening taking in her company.

"Zora Haque," he said, his eyes scanning her form. Taking in the beautiful gown before returning to her green-eyed gaze. "My lady. I must profusely apologize to you. You must think me horrendous, and I can't even refute the charge – how I managed to be so locked within a dream that I couldn't wake, not even in a timely manner to escort you – "

"Bjorn," she said, cutting him off abruptly. She had heard enough. The light-elf snapped his jaw shut, expecting a thorough verbal lashing from her. Zora, instead, turned her glare to Loki. "I don't think you were at fault, your highness. In fact, I'm quite certain your cousin played a mean trick on you."

Suddenly realizing the others around them, Bjorn's gaze darted over to the trickster god briefly, putting two and two together as soon as he saw the raven-haired prince's smirk. "Loki," he growled out, shaking his head. But his ire depleted just as soon as it had arrived – Bjorn sighed severely in resignation, his head hanging low. "I should have known. No other has the ability to conjure such a strong spell."

Loki's smirk only widened. "I shall take that as a compliment."

"Of course you will," Jane, beside Zora, muttered darkly.

But Zora was impressed with the light-elf's cool-headedness. He was the first being she had ever witnessed to be victim to Loki's caprices and yet not lash out at the demi-god for it. Even Thor was liable to do so, if Loki pushed him far enough. But Bjorn…

"You're really just a nice guy, aren't you?" she asked accidentally-out-loud, but the mistake was well worth it. Bjorn's head cocked to the side, his expression truly innocent, as he tried to judge whether Zora was being sarcastic or not.

At last deeming her to be genuine, Bjorn simply asked, "Do I not seem that way to you?"

"You do," Zora said, boldly taking the light-elf's hand, flashing Loki a heated gaze as she did so. And she didn't miss the way his eyes burned. The way he glowered at Bjorn's blossoming smile or how her hand trailed up his arm to wrap around his bicep. But she could die on this mission and Bjorn was straightforward and _kind_ , and couldn't she just have this one night? "Why don't you show me what it is that the Vanir drink?"

Bjorn bowed his head to her but couldn't hide his relieved grin. "Of course, my lady. As you command."

000

It was only half an hour later that the Asgardian traveling party was seated at an absurdly long, thick-wooded banquet table, a feast stretching from one end of the table to the other. There were so many _people_ around them; ladies and gentlemen of the court, Zora guessed, stealing glances at the two Asgardian princes, at the Warriors three and the odd mortals, and especially at their own prince, whose gaze remained steadfastly on Zora, herself.

To say she was feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the attention would be a grave understatement. So when Bjorn next spoke, pulling her from these thoughts with a statement she never expected to leave anyone's lips, was it really her fault that she nearly choked on the piece of meat she'd been chewing?

"I'm sorry, _what?_ " Zora asked with very little propriety, having gulped down her chalice of water in order to swallow the piece of meat. All eyes turned to her – gods, she couldn't catch a break. Loki was grinning the most sinful smile he owned, Jane's brow was also furrowed in confusion, Thor stared oddly at his cousin, and Bjorn himself seemed nervous that he'd offended Zora.

"I apologize, Lady Zora," he was quick to say, sitting up impossibly straighter. Gods, were those light-elf-puppy-eyes he was giving her? "What I meant to say was… you have a curious parentage about you. I can't quite get a read on it."

Zora stared at him, mouth open. Uh… What did someone say to that?

Loki decided to butt in with a snigger. "Zora, I do believe my cousin is deeply insulting you."

Her eyes flashed over to his. Oh, he thought this was funny, did he? Bjorn, on the other hand, turned a lovely shade of pink in his embarrassment. Panicked, he ducked his head, "No – please don't misunderstand me, my lady. I sincerely apologize if I've offended you. I simply sense something curious about you."

Thor stepped in to further explain his cousin, shooting a dark look at Loki. "What Bjorn means, Lady Zora," Thor said, refocusing his attention on her, "is that he has the gift of seeing souls."

Zora's jaw dropped. But why should she be so surprised? She was sitting in the palace of a foreign realm with three outlandishly handsome princes, being waited on hand and foot because she was a daughter of a crazy prophecy, on her way to Hel at the bottom of the World Tree to slay the Goddess of Death. Was seeing souls such a strange thing, after all that?

"I…" she paused, sipped on her water some more to buy herself some time. Realized Bjorn was waiting anxiously for her input, still uncertain if he had offended her. "I didn't know that was possible. Why do you say I have a 'curious parentage'?"

All the others at the table around them, particularly Loki, Thor, and Jane, leaned forward with interest. Bjorn cleared his throat, his eyes returning to Zora, scanning her form as if he were not necessarily seeing her body, but something deeper. "You are not mortal," he answered after several beats. Zora's stomach coiled up, but was this really a surprise to her? No. No, it wasn't. Somehow, she'd known. "You are not Aesir or Vanir… or any other race that belongs on the World Tree."

 _That_ , however, was shocking. Apparently, Zora wasn't the only one who thought so. Loki sat back in his chair, dumbfounded but absorbing the information hungrily, his eyes pinning Zora to her seat. She felt so _bare_ under his gaze. Thor and Jane exchanged confused looks. Bjorn just seemed sheepish for pointing the matter out at all.

Zora couldn't help but think of her mother. The very woman who had warned Zora, so so long ago, that she was connected to things. Things she didn't yet understand. Was her mother even her mother? And if not… Did the woman Zora call mother know who her true parents were?

Now wasn't the time to ask all the questions forming inside her head. They were personal. Too personal. She'd have to wait. Collect herself, think over what she wanted to know. Did she even want to know?

How much more could she handle being thrown at her?

000

"You have been quiet all evening, cousin," Bjorn said conversationally to Loki, joining the Asgardian prince in the corner of the room, a mead in hand. Loki bristled at the intrusion, his eyes following the graceful circles that Zora Haque made as she danced with one nobleman and then the next. It seemed that, even here in Vanaheim, the War-Breaker was celebrated as a true friend and hero of the realm. And everyone wanted to get their hands on her, which was making Loki decidedly… frustrated.

Ignoring his new company, Loki continued to watch Zora. He told himself that he was merely keeping an eye on the War Breaker, ensuring no harm might come to her so that they may continue on with their journey, so that Asgard's fate would not fall into ash, but he knew, deep down, that he was simply too enamored to look away. Jealous of all those who danced with her that was not him. She smiled as an older light elf twirled her. A smile that was so open and carefree and happy. A smile he, himself, would never be graced with by her.

Bjorn followed his cousin's stare into the dancing crowd. "You have an odd sense about you, Loki," Bjorn said absently, eyes never leaving the object of both their affections. "You have been touched by something beyond the Void."

Loki's blood ran cold. He stopped breathing altogether, barely keeping up his veneer of disinterest. Could his cousin truly see that within him? Something… different?

Giving a sharp smirk, showing no weakness, Loki finally gave the light elf his full attention. "Is that so, cousin? Tell me... Do you see something dark within my soul, now? Am I tainted?"

He was ready to hear it. That there was something truly evil inside him now. Something lost to the universe. Part of himself he would never get back. But nothing could have really prepared him for Bjorn's next words.

"No," the light elf said softly. Gray eyes looked at Loki – looked _beyond_ Loki and into that realm of souls that only Bjorn was privy to – and snaked down towards Loki's hand. A furrow appeared between the elf's white eyebrows. "I see a golden string that ties your pinkie to Zora's."

The air all but left Loki. He struggled to keep his visage schooled into one of impassivity. But he needed to hear that again. He needed… "What?" he asked, sounding far more dumbfounded than he cared to admit.

Bjorn frowned. His light eyes traveled back across the room, to the woman who could so easily steal hearts. "You heard me correctly, Loki." And he sounded… mournful. "Of course, the Norns can tie souls together for various reasons. They need not be romantic in nature." Gray eyes locked onto sharp emerald. "Perhaps yours is not."

 _Perhaps it is_ , the more hopeful aspect of Loki thought desperately.

"I suppose only time will answer this for us," Bjorn continued. He gazed at his cousin determinedly. "I am no coward, Loki. You know this. And I believe that the woman you won't even share your true affections for is worth all the realms in Yggdrasil. I believe she is worth the truth. If I must face fate and lose, then so be it. But I will at least try. She deserves as much, don't you think?"

000

After dancing for countless songs with men and even women whose names she was quickly mixing up inside her head, Zora felt exhausted down to her bones. Exhausted, indeed, but elated. Happy. She hadn't thought a feast in a foreign realm with the weight of Yggdrasil's fate sitting heavy on her shoulders could go well… but it did. And it was all thanks to the realm's prince, himself.

She smiled as she watched him approach from the other side of the massive room, where he had left a sour-faced Loki behind. It took all of her willpower not to stare at the raven-haired prince and wonder what had caused him such trouble that he looked visibly disturbed and instead to focus on the bright-haired, bright-eyed elf coming her way.

"Your gown," Bjorn said as soon as they were merely feet apart, "suits you well, my lady. You look stunning. If I may be as bold to say so… you would fit in well, here, in the Vanir court."

Zora's heart fluttered, stuttered, nearly stopped. "What?"

Bjorn smiled shyly. He tugged absently at the feather that was tied prettily into his white hair. "Forgive me. I mean that this evening… it suits you well. You look happy, if I may say."

Did he have to be perfect in every way?

Not so invested in being completely unreadable and enigmatic that she couldn't ever understand how he felt towards her? Not hiding behind a sharp, sometimes stinging wit, a self-deprecating sarcasm, a broodiness that no one could compete with?

Why was Bjorn so lovely and kind?

And moreover… Why was Zora only able to circle back to thinking about Loki?

Smiling again at the Vanir prince, Zora nodded. "I am happy," she agreed, though her eyes darted to a pale-faced Loki many, many feet away, whose gaze was already pinned on her. She felt a jolt in her heart and desperately tried to ignore it. Turned back to such beautiful gray eyes. "And I must thank you for it. After tonight, things may never be like this again… but I am happy to have had this night."

And she was. She was so thankful for it. Because it was true. These could be her last nights alive. And to be able to be happy, even for only a little while… it was precious.

Bjorn frowned deeply. "You mustn't think that way, my lady. You are the War Breaker. You are exceptional. Hela is a vile creature with no morals, no honor. You will slay her, and you will hopefully think to return to visit me sometime, again."

His confidence was sweet. His invite gave her butterflies. But she couldn't find the same certainty within herself.

"May I ask you something?" she decidedly changed the topic.

His smile returned. It was blinding. Pure and charming. It was no wonder so many light elf women kept glancing his way, hoping to catch his eye. "You may ask me anything you like, Lady Zora, and I will do my best to answer you."

Zora's throat bobbed. She lowered her voice. "You can see souls. Can you see where they end?"

She hated to wipe that charming smile away again, but it happened once more. Bjorn's visage grew concerned. Confused. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

She twiddled her thumbs together. "What I mean to ask is… can you see how I die? Or when?"

Silence. Glancing up from where she was staring at her soft Vanir slippers, she found Bjorn shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "No," he said softly, warily. "I am not gifted with that ability. The elder, Rodax, returned from a long mission in Hel many years ago with that terrible gift. He has carried it as his burden ever since."

Zora perked up at the information. She tried not to look too eager, she really did, but she was afraid she was failing miserably. "Can you take me to see him?"

Bjorn's already pale skin lost even more color. "Tonight?"

"Yes," she answered quickly. "As soon as we can go."

He tugged on the feather again. Pretty lips were pulled down into such a deep frown that Zora worried she had actually offended the prince. But when he blinked at her, it was with concern. Concern only for her. Taking a small step forward, Bjorn closed some distance between them and slowly, gently, gathered one of her hands in both of his. He flipped her hand over, palm up, and traced the lines that marred otherwise smooth skin with his index finger. His touch sent a shiver down Zora's spine. Pleasantly.

When was the last time someone had touched her so… reverently?

Looking up at her through near-white eyelashes, Bjorn continued to frown. "If that is what you desire, Lady Zora, I can take you to him. But I must warn you… Nothing good has ever come from being read by Radox. His visions are often confusing and fractured, but they are always correct. Our deaths, however they may be written by the Norns, are inevitable."

"That doesn't scare me," Zora breathed out, wondering if she'd just told a lie or not. Did it scare her? Maybe a little. But she had this desperate need to _know_.

He flipped her hand back over again. Interlaced his fingers with her, though with a cautious look, giving her every moment needed to object if she wanted to. She didn't. Thoughts swept back to long, pale fingers that belonged to another prince from another realm, but Zora shoved them aside, pushed them away. Loki wasn't hers.

"It frightens me," Bjorn admitted softly. "Radox is mad in the head. He isn't safe to be around. I will have to stay with you during the reading." He said this as if she would reject the idea outright. But he didn't understand how desperately she wanted to know if this mission would be her last. If it would be… there were things she needed to do. To say.

"I understand."

He nodded once. "Then let me take you."

000

Radox, the death-reader, lived deep within the palace. He kept mostly to himself, Bjorn told her as he led her through winding marble halls, his hand never once leaving hers. The elder found solace in solitude, peace in silence. He lived at the other end of the palace where only a few curious and brave-hearted servants dare venture anymore. Zora thought the man sounded more like a fairytale creature than an elder light-elf who had gone to Hel and back and survived.

"Father lets him stay here because he feels guilty, I think," Bjorn continued to talk, to tell her things she hadn't really asked about or thought of, if only to fill the silence. Anxiety rolled off of him in waves – Zora didn't need to be a soul-reader to see that the white-haired prince was nervous. "It was under my father's orders that Radox went to gather intelligence in Hel. The man was missing for a century. Presumed dead. When he arrived back at the palace a hundred years later… my father was in shock. And Radox was a changed man."

Zora's heart twinged. It was a sad story, of course. Terrifying, really. She had known since those few quiet moments before she and Loki stepped through the portal into Vanaheim that she would never come back from Hel the same woman. But to hear about this man, about what had happened to him… She was scared.

Bjorn led her up a cramped, winding staircase lit sparsely by lamps here and there; their shadows played off the white marble walls like ghosts. Her heart was throbbing in her throat, fear making her hand grasp at Bjorn's tighter. When they stopped outside a massive red door, Bjorn blocked her passage and looked at her somberly.

"We can still turn back, my lady," he offered, but she could see that he knew she would refuse this. His anxiety, however, just made hers worse. "This isn't something you must do."

"It is," she assured him. Herself.

Bjorn nodded in resignation and stepped aside. Zora sucked in a steadying breath and pushed the door open, prepared to have her death read.

000

"Brother," Thor said carefully as he approached the brooding raven-haired prince. Thor's presence made Loki want to snap and snarl – couldn't anyone just leave him to his thoughts? "I was hoping you and I could share a word."

"That was eleven words," Loki pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning further back into the marble wall. "So are we finished?"

Thor rolled his eyes. "No." He joined his brother, mimicked his stance.

Loki heaved a sigh – he had already witnessed Bjorn in his attempts to win over Zora just a few minutes ago, going as far as to hold her hands, to lead her away to some unknown destination. Loki had half a mind to follow them, but his gut had seized up and forced him to stay put. What if he found them together? In a sense that Zora would never consider to be with Loki?

No, he had stayed put. Let her be charmed by his fairer, more agreeable cousin. Let her be swept off her feet. Loki, himself, would never be able to match up. It was better to accept this now.

 _But the golden string_ , his subconscious reminded him. The golden string that tied his pinkie to Zora's, a clear sign that the Norns _had_ tied their souls together. The golden string. The crooning trinket in his pocket. The ache in his heart.

"You haven't even attempted to properly court her," Thor finally spoke up, jolting Loki from his mournful thoughts, "and yet here you are, already giving up." Thor fixed the raven-haired prince with a hard, blue gaze. "That doesn't seem like the brother I grew up with."

"I'm not the brother you grew up with," was Loki's automatic response. He didn't even have to think about it. The words were formed and leaving his lips of their own volition.

Another eye roll from Thor. "Given your melodrama, your brooding, and your clear love for the War Breaker, I'd say you are."

Oh, that hit a nerve. Loki's fists balled up at his sides; he stood straighter, faced his not-brother, glared. "I do not love the War Breaker. Don't waste my time with such nonsense."

The crown prince grinned, and if Loki wasn't mistaken, there was even a hint of mischief in that grin. "Whatever you say, brother." Thor patted Loki on the shoulder. _Consolingly_. Gods, Loki was angry. "Is that why you're over here, fretful and alone, while our dear cousin leads Zora to the death-reader?"

Loki's heart nearly stopped. "The death-reader?" Radox? What in the Nine could she possibly… Why would she… "Do you know this for certain?" Loki demanded, rounding on Thor once more.

Thor was resolute. With a grim nod, he added, "Fandral overheard their conversation."

"Radox is mad," Loki ranted. How could she possibly think going to a death-reader was a good idea? What was she thinking? What was _Bjorn_ thinking? "He could fill her head with lies. He could undermine our mission entirely."

"Or he could tell her a truth she's not yet ready to hear."

Loki barely heard his brother's words. He was already storming off in the direction of the mad-elf's quarters.

000

Bjorn should have mentioned that the light-elf elder known as Radox had red eyes. He really should have mentioned that. Was it common for light-elves to have such oddly colored eyes? Regardless, she couldn't stop _staring_. Nearly clutched at her chest and made the sign to fend off the devil. Because those eyes. So red. Like fire from the very pits of Hell, itself.

Bjorn kept a firm hold on Zora's hand as the pair folded themselves down onto satin floor-pillows, sitting before a massive table alit with candles. It was like a scene out of a movie, to her. Goosebumps pebbled her arms.

"We apologize for bothering you so late in the evening," Bjorn was saying kindly to the elder, who was mixing some sort of tea or elixir at the other end of the room. "But my friend here will only be staying this one night."

Radox hummed to himself. So far, Zora hadn't seen anything about him – other than the red fucking eyes – that made him seem crazed. To her, he was a quiet, eccentric old man. He returned to the table with one cup of a dark-colored liquid, which he held out to Zora.

As Zora made to accept the cup, her eyes locked onto his. So red. Terrifying, really. But the terror was only in the color. The elf was looking at her like one might look at an interesting artifact in a museum. Pondering. Inquisitive. Accepting.

"Indeed," Radox agreed with Bjorn. "Zora Haque, War Breaker of Yggdrasil, leaves at dawn. The walls have whispered as much to me."

Okay. Yeah. That was actually a little terrifying.

Catching the look of fear on Zora's face, the red-eyed elf barked in laughter. He laughed and laughed, even wiping at a stray tear on his face, as he joined them in sitting on the floor. "Ah, your face, child. You are so spooked!" Another laugh. Zora stared at the Vanir prince for help, but he looked just as confused. "By the Norns, the walls don't whisper, not even to me. I heard it from the servant girl who delivered my supper."

Zora released her breath. Was the elf seriously fucking with her right now? For a laugh?

"I thought you were supposed to be crazy," Zora muttered, staring down into the dark-amber liquid she'd been given. "Not an asshole."

Radox laughed even harder. "Yes, to many, I am considered quite mad. An 'asshole', as you've just said, has never passed any of my visitor's lips, on the other hand. How interesting. In your realm, this is an insult?"

"Of sorts."

"I shall remember it, then. Bjorn's uncle is quite the asshole."

Bjorn sputtered, then laughed. Zora's eyes widened. This man was joking with them. Why did Bjorn paint this red-eyed figure to be someone dangerous, someone to avoid? Gods, so far, he just reminded her of her foul-mouthed grandfather who had been terribly endeared to practical jokes.

"But yes, in all seriousness, my child, I am quite mad." The elf tapped his head with a knobby index finger. "Hel has invaded my mind."

"Hel is my next destination," Zora told him.

The red-eyed elf sat back. Considered Zora once more. "I am aware. You are the War Breaker. Foretold to slay the Goddess of Death. So you have come here hoping to learn of what fate might await you in Hel?"

"Yes."

Radox nodded. Gestured towards her cup. "Sip on that, my dear. It will help me read you more accurately."

Zora stared down at the liquid again. Smelled it, face scrunching up. Gods, what was in this thing? Did she even want to know? "Uh…"

"Is that necessary?" Bjorn asked on her behalf, eying the liquid with as much skepticism as Zora. "It looks… ah, how shall I say… rather questionable."

Radox laughed again. Ah, now she could see a bit of his madness. "Of course it isn't necessary! In fact, don't drink it, child. 'Tis merely a prop. While the muddled eye of a bilgesnipe is certainly not _bad_ for one's health, I don't think a warrior as young as yourself is yet in need of it."

All right, no. Zora placed the cup on the table quickly, pushed it as far away from herself as possible. She still didn't know what the fuck a bilgesnipe was, but if there was a muddled eyeball in that fucking drink, it was not coming anywhere near her.

Another bark of laughter.

"Can you actually read deaths, or do you just prank people?" Zora asked, more bite in her tone than she'd intended.

Radox grinned at her. He was missing several teeth. "I have already read your death, Lady Zora. The moment you stepped in this room, I could read it on you. Your skin… it crawls with it. Your eyes shine with it. And your soul… curious as your soul is, your soul whispers it to me."

Now she didn't know if he was fucking with her again or not, but still, more goosebumps rose on her arms. She didn't even realize she'd leaned forward with interest, both hands resting on the table, until she was close enough to a candle to smell its incense.

"Are you joking right now or are you being serious?"

"Deathly serious, I'm afraid." A chuckle at his own bad joke. "But indeed, I have read it. However, you may not like to share in my knowledge, War Breaker. Are you certain you would like to know your fate?"

Her stomach was tangled in knots. She felt half like she would be sick and half like she would faint. Did she want to know her fate? Yes. Yes and no. Because if she was going to die in Hel, she had things to do, to say. There was someone who deserved to know something, a raven-haired prince who needed to know he was not so alone in this world.

Bjorn interlaced their fingers once more, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "You can say no, my lady."

But she was never the type to get close to something she'd wanted and then back away. Not even if it terrified her straight to her core. "Tell me," Zora demanded.

Radox nodded. His eyes were somber, glowing like hellfire in the candle light. "Zora Haque," the elf enunciated her name clearly, slowly, "does not die."

Silence. Zora ran his words through her head again and again. Beside her, Bjorn's brow was furrowed.

"What do you mean?" Bjorn demanded, his grip tightening on her.

Zora felt nauseous.

"I mean what I say, young prince." Radox stared at Zora until she met his gaze again. "Zora Haque does not die. The Norns have said so."

000

Loki knew that, by the time he reached the mad-elf's quarters, he was too late. The door was closed, but muffled voices could be heard inside. Fear clenched his gut, his very soul. What lies could the elf be feeding Zora? What poison could he be infusing her mind with? Why would his cousin take such a precious woman to someone so vile?

He paused before the door, prepared to barge in, but afraid for an entirely new reason as a sudden thought struck him.

If he walked into that room, if he allowed Radox to see him at long last, the mad elf would know something about Loki that no one else knew: how the raven-haired prince would die. Radox would know. And in Loki's world, knowledge was power. Especially such intimate knowledge.

Was Zora worth putting himself at risk like that?

Heart made up far before his mind could digest what he was about to do, Loki shoved the doors open and stepped inside. Three pairs of eyes turned towards him in varying degrees of shock; the familiar gray eyes of surprised and currently guilt-ridden Bjorn, the sharp and chillingly intelligent green eyes of the woman who haunted his every waking and sleeping hour, and the piercing red gaze of the one Loki had to assume was Radox, zeroed in on Loki in the same way Bjorn once used to be, when the young light elf prince had first learned to read souls.

Loki's gaze at once returned to Zora, whose face was unsettlingly pale. She blinked up at him as if she were simultaneously relieved and horrified to see him.

"Zora." Her name fell from his lips like a hiss. Anger so strong, so powerful, welled up inside of him that he could do nothing but growl as Bjorn stood and attempted to intercede on the woman's behalf. Realizing that Loki's ire was not to be trifled with in that moment, Bjorn snapped his jaw shut and stepped back.

"Zora," Loki repeated. He didn't spare a glance back at the death reader, though he could feel the elf's eyes on him as if they were peering into his very soul. And in a way, they were. "Get up. Now."

Uncertainty swirled in the woman's fern-green eyes. She hovered about, unsure whether to stand as Loki had demanded or remain seated. The foolish girl couldn't even comprehend the nature of his anger. Couldn't see what danger she was in.

"Loki – "she tried, but he held up a hand.

"No," he cut her off. "You don't understand what is truly happening right now. So stand. Come, now. Follow me."

Zora stood stiffly. Her upper lip was curled, clearly at his presumptuous and demanding tone, but she complied nonetheless. Loki's hand hovered protectively over her lower back as he guided her from the room and out into the hall. Now that she had been removed from the immediate area, he settled the full weight of his glare on Bjorn.

"You and I will have words later, cousin." Bjorn's already paper-white skin turned impossibly whiter. The threat in Loki's tone was clear. His cousin gave a sharp, affirmative nod. The fact that the prince didn't even bother arguing with Loki spoke volumes: something had gone wrong. Terribly wrong.

He didn't even want to spare the blasted death-reader a waste of words, so he turned on his heel to leave, shoulders held taut. Still, the mad-elf's voice made Loki stop.

"It is impossible to hide from Fate," Radox said to Loki's back. The door-handle in Loki's fist crumbled with his rage. "You will try to hide her from it, dark one, but it has already found her. And sunk its teeth in."

Loki's teeth were ground together so hard, he was amazed they didn't shatter. "If you come near her again," he said lowly, drawing on every ounce of his willpower to keep a steady voice, "I will slaughter you in ways you can't even imagine."

"I would be interested in seeing you try."

Having had enough, Loki stomped out into the hallway, took stock of the shivering and pale-faced Zora Haque, and grabbed her by the hand. It was about time they retired for the evening.

000

 _Zora Haque does not die_. She was drowning in those words. Haunted by the red eyes that had looked so deeply into her own as they'd been spoken.

Everyone eventually dies. It was the nature of the universe, a law that even the long-lived Aesir could not escape. Death came for everyone. Death was inevitable.

So what did it mean? For the Norns, the very Fates themselves, to put Zora Haque above death?

Zora was jolted from her thoughts as a warm, feathery-like material was settled over her shoulders. She hadn't realized she was shivering. Hadn't noticed the chill that had settled into her bones, seeped into her blood, make her teeth rattle in her skull. When did she reappear back inside the room Bjorn had graciously loaned her for the evening?

The long, elegant fingers that clasped the cloak around Zora was answer enough. Loki. He had burst into Radox's living quarters, a rage unparalleled etched onto his face, to find her consulting with a death reader. Had demanded she leave immediately. Had given Bjorn such a scorching look that she wondered if the light-elf would show his face again in the near future or stay away in order to protect himself from the God of Lies' wrath.

"What?" Zora asked suddenly, realizing belatedly that Loki was guiding her to sit on her bed, treating her like a child in shock. She'd completely missed the last several sentences he'd spoken to her.

Loki looked on the brink of admonishing her but seemed to think better of it. Careful green eyes scanned her from head to toe, assessing. "You need to lay down," he instructed firmly, but gently.

"I need…" There was something she _did_ need. Something, but she couldn't name what. Certainly not to lay down. Not now. "No. I need…"

"Zora," Loki said, crouching in front of her. Concern made the edges of his eyes crinkle up. "I think you're in shock. What did he say to you? It's lies, all of it. Rest assured that nothing that creature says is true. He's a madman and a fraud."

Zora blinked owlishly up at Loki; even crouched, he was taller than her. She realized that he was gripping her hands like she might fall away from him at any second. He was desperate to know what Radox had said, that much was clear.

But she couldn't open her mouth and repeat those words. She needed to process them.

"Where's Bjorn?" she asked suddenly, glancing around the large room for any sign of the pale-haired elf.

Loki's frown only managed to deepen. "He could be rotting in the pits of Hel for all I care right now," the demi-god growled. "It was foolish of him to take you there."

"I asked him to," Zora explained, as if that made everything okay.

"Then you're foolish, too."

Another blink. She stopped her harried thoughts for a moment to observe the god before her. He was wane; stiff with anxiety, shaking with leftover rage. "Why are you so angry?"

The question seemed to eat away at the calm façade he was just barely cloaking himself beneath. Loki's jaw clenched. He squeezed her hand tighter a moment. "Radox is dangerous, Zora. You shouldn't have been allowed to go near him."

"No one 'allows' me to do anything," she said fiercely. "I do what I want."

"Is that so? Even if it means putting the fate of Asgard and the rest of Yggdrasil at risk? Putting our mission at risk?"

Zora stood. She wouldn't be condescended like this. Poking a finger into his chest, she snapped, "You mean putting our deal at risk? That's what you actually mean, right? Because that's all you care about. You didn't even want to help until something was in it for you. So don't talk to me like I'm a selfish child, Loki, and don't pretend you care what happens to me or the rest of the realms. I know why you're here, and it's not for either of those things."

Loki snarled at her. She genuinely thought he would lash out for a moment before he turned his back to her, his chest heaving as he tried to contain himself. "You infuriating woman!" He sucked in a breath. Pinched the bridge of his nose. Faced her once more. Zora's mouth dropped open at his expression – he was so angry, but also _afraid_. "I am not – I – "he stopped himself, collected another breath. Sharp emerald eyes cut into her. "I'm not here for that and you know it."

Her mouth snapped shut. Yet again, Loki looked so _raw_. So vulnerable. So opposite of the god that had held her prisoner. Even as he stomped towards her, hovered just inches away from her, their breaths mingling, Zora couldn't find it in herself to be afraid of him. She watched, awestruck, as he continued to speak.

"The Fates have tied us together, Zora Haque. You are mine to protect. Not Thor's. Not Bjorn's. Not even your own. _Mine_." His breathing was ragged. She realized that hers was, too. "Do you understand me?"

She struggled to say something. Anything. To even put her thoughts together on what he had just confessed. But before she could, the God of Lies was gone.


End file.
